Reclamation
by Katherine Shepard
Summary: The Collectors temporarily behind them, Shepard helps Zaeed reclaim the Blue Suns. AU if only for taking the path less traveled with Shepard's characterization.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Sweat poured down his temples, soaking the inner collar of his under-armor and causing his helmet visor to fog over. Eyes darting left and right anxiously, fingers gripping the rifle in a death hold. A whole team of Blue Suns down in a matter of minutes. He'd watched his comrades fall like dominoes across the base floor, their blood splattering the walls like grotesque paint. Blues, greens and reds peppered the crates around him, all but signaling to the mysterious invader his location.

A sharp hissing zing shot overhead and he stifled a terrified gasp. He couldn't remember shaking this badly ever since his first mission. A small job, cargo freighter run by human colonists stupid enough to settle around the Terminus. There had been little to no opposition, no fallen teammates, nothing like this.

Things had been quiet until a mere fifteen minutes ago. He and the other Blue Suns had been securing a drop site to await a ship loaded with illegal goods when the infiltrator fired their first shot. The scariest part was that the attacker had already been among them.

Female Blue Suns weren't unheard of, but they very rarely went on off-world missions, preferring to stick close to home bases to ensure the safety of the bosses. This one had come out of nowhere, lost in the blue and white flashes of the others as they sped for cover. He couldn't even remember seeing her when they'd arrived. She'd just...materialized! Her accuracy was eerie, exploding the helmets of the people closest to him before sprinting away. Further shots, more people on the ground in pain, as he ran for dear life. Now he was the only one left and he knew she was hunting him. He could _feel_ her skulking in the shadows, behind the high walls surrounding the docking bay, maybe even on the ceiling above him. The thought made him shiver uncontrollably and he covered his head with his arms to suppress the panicked cry that bounced off the interior of his helmet.

_Thud._

He looked up slowly, eyes meeting the bloodstained ridges of a combat boot. His gaze travelled upward, eventually landing on the masked face of the assassin. Her pistol was resting at her side almost casually, as if she was debating killing him. "Please..." he whispered, templing his hands in supplication towards her. "I don't know what you want...I can't tell you anything!"

The woman's head tilted slightly to the left, but she said nothing. Her fingers flexed around her pistol. She continued to stare down at him through the blue-tinted ports that concealed her eyes. "I'm not going to kill you," she announced suddenly, her voice hollow through the commlink. "You're going to deliver a message for me instead."

"Anything!" he promised desperately, rising to his knees.

"The message is this: He's coming back. There will be a reclamation of what is rightfully his and no one, not even the strongest of your bosses, will stop him."

He processed the words without really hearing them. "Who...who is 'he'?" he asked quietly. She shook her head at him, then backed off the crate she'd been standing on. With a backwards glance, she pointed her pistol at him, but didn't fire. It was a reminder: Deliver the message and you will live.

For now.


	2. Chapter 1

***********

Chapter One

_One month ago_

Commander Karen Shepard stood before the damaged communications link-up, the remainder of her team assembled around the table staring at her expectantly. She looked at each in turn, mentally judging their opinion of her latest decision in their eyes. Normally, she never would've handed such a treasure over to the Illusive Man, but, unbeknownst to her team, it was the means to a very definite end. She had no desire to enable Cerberus' insanity, at least not for much longer. Getting the Illusive Man off her back had only been the final step: she'd already finished off the first two with the deaths of Jacob Taylor and Miranda Lawson. She regretted the necessity of killing Jacob; he'd always been forthright with her. However, he'd still been part of Cerberus and Shepard couldn't afford to have any Cerberus personnel on her ship.

_Any._

The empty CIC, engineering deck, crew quarters, and mess were testaments to her decisions. Only Chakwas had returned from the Collector abduction and she was still recovering from the shock of watching her fellow crew members turn into primordial sludge. Along with Jacob, she'd regretted leaving the innocent crew to die on the base. Means to an end, she repeated to herself when guilt struck. It hardened an already hardened heart, giving her the resolve necessary to continue with her plan.

Only one pair of eyes regarded her with respect and understanding. Zaeed Massani, the mercenary founder of the Blue Suns turned bounty hunter, hovered in the corner behind her with his thick arms crossed over his armored chest. He leveled each opposing glare with a one-eyed stare of such intensity it caused the recipient to look hastily away. He knew Shepard's plan, understood the decisions she'd been forced to make for the ultimate benefit of all. He'd helped her cement the details during long nights in the starboard cargo hold he called his domain. It was up to her to reveal them to the rest of the team and as such, Zaeed remained quiet, watching from his corner.

Shepard drew a deep breath, then lifted her gaze. "I know many of you don't approve of my decision to give Cerberus the Collector data and you have every right to be angry with me. However, it was very necessary in order to accomplish the big picture."

"And what picture is that, Shepard?" Jack demanded, stepping forward as though challenging the commander. "To let those Cerberus fucks screw us over again? To let them screw other people? No, Shepard -- I don't think any of us can see this 'picture'. You gonna enlighten us?"

"Of course I am, Jack," Shepard replied coolly. "Had I refused the data to the Illusive Man, he would've made it his business to get in my way. In this way, we lead him to believe we're still on his side. He'll be busy with that data for months, maybe even years. That gives us ample time to do what we must."

"What is that, Shepard?" Tali asked next as others nodded in agreement. Shepard took a moment before replying.

"I have every intention of fighting and defeating the Reapers. Without the interference from the Council, the Alliance, and now Cerberus, we can create our own army to combat Harbinger. Tali, if your people do not go to war with the Geth they can assist us in this, can't they? And Legion!" Shepard addressed the AI standing beside Tali. "What of your people? You wish to fight the Old Machines, don't you?"

"Affirmative, Shepard-Commander," Legion assured her. "However, we do not understand your implications in this matter."

"You will when I finish explaining," Shepard said, beginning to pace slowly before the table as she spoke. "Everyone here has a powerful race behind them. Samara, you have the other justicars or the commandos. Grunt, you have the Urdnot clan and I already know I have the backing of Wrex in this matter. Garrus, you could easily rally more turians to your cause just as you did on Omega." She paused for emphasis, then rested her hands on the table purposefully. "Humans have the Blue Suns."

Immediately, a disjointed chorus of voices sounded from all assembled. "They're slavers!" Jack cried.

"They kill millions!" Tali followed.

"Shepard, this is insane -- you can't possibly imagine they would work with us!" Garrus protested loudly, striding forward and slamming a fist on the cracked glass surface of the table. The hologram of the Normandy flickered from the force, emphasizing the turian renegade's anger. "You saw what they were trying to do to me on Omega!"

"I would advise greatly against this course of action, Commander," Samara said. "You cannot trust mercenaries. I ought to know that fact for certain."

"I agree with Samara, Shepard," Thane added. "Surely the Alliance isn't a completely lost cause. Could you not implore the assistance of your former captain?"

"Haven't we killed too many of them already? I doubt there's that many left," Grunt remarked thoughtfully, turning narrowed eyes on Shepard.

"Uh, if I might chime in here for a minute?" Joker's voice carried over the others' protests from his perch on a chunk of debris opposite Zaeed. Everyone turned to him, waiting. "I don't care what we do so long as I can do two things: fly and kill more of those Reaper sons-of-bitches. Shepard hasn't led us astray so far: what makes you think she'd do so now?"

"Whatever her reasons, siding with a renowned mercenary band that deals with slavers and expecting them to fight for us is plain ignorance!" Garrus insisted hotly. "Shepard, did they lobotomize you when they brought you back? Are you sure there's no control chip in there somewhere?"

"I'm not being manipulated, Garrus," Shepard assured him calmly. "And I understand everyone's concerns on this. I was dubious when the idea was first presented to me."

"Presented to you? Who suggested it?" Garrus demanded.

"I did, if you must know," Zaeed replied. "Rather, I merely remarked one evening that I would like my damned group back now that that bastard Vido was dead. Shepard ran with it."

"But you knew about it?" Tali asked, her three-fingered hands twisting anxiously. "For how long?"

"Ever since the first Collector ship," Shepard told her softly. "It became clear to me then that we'll be needing some serious backup to put both the Reapers and Cerberus down."

"Is that...is that why Jacob, Kelly, and the engineers aren't here anymore?" Tali asked next, her voice very quiet inside her helmet. "Did you...no, I can't believe that." She shook her head swiftly. "It was an accident. We had to deal with my trial --- oh, Keelah!" Her hands flew to her visor. "I delayed the mission and killed the crew!"

"No, no, Tali!" Shepard went over to her quickly and took her by the shoulders in a gentle grip. "None of it is your fault. I take full responsibility for everything that happened both before and after the Collector base. Everything," she added firmly, now half-embracing the trembling quarian. An uneasy silence settled over the room, ending when Garrus sighed heavily.

"I suppose I can't argue too much over your decisions, Shepard," he conceded wearily. "After all, I'm guilty of doing anything to achieve my goals, even if it means ending a few lives along the way." His avian eyes pinned her with a knowing look, forcing the woman to avert her gaze.

"So," Joker interceded a bit too loudly, clapping his hands together briskly. "How are we gonna get a band of mercs on our side? Or have we decided to just sit here and watch while the Reapers steamroll the galaxy?"

"You leave the details to me and Shepard," Zaeed replied, leaving the corner and striding passed the crew to the door. He cocked his head at Shepard, indicating she should accompany him at her earliest convenience. She nodded briefly in acknowledgement, then looked back at the team.

"Joker, plot a course for Omega. The Normandy is still too banged up to fly long distances," she instructed. "Aria owes me a few favors; fixing the ship should clear all debts nicely."

"You got it, Commander," Joker gave her a small salute then hobbled out of the comm room back to the bridge.

"The rest of you, return to your stations. I expect reports within the hour on how we're doing on resources, power, and supplies. Dismissed."

Tali lingered in the half-circle of Shepard's arm while everyone else left in silence. She sniffled softly behind her visor. "It's too quiet in engineering without Ken and Gabby," she whispered sadly. "Everywhere is so empty..."

"I know," Shepard murmured. "This isn't easy for me, either." She stroked Tali's shoulder gingerly. Keeping secrets from her trusted crew members was even harder. Only Zaeed knew Shepard had been the one to pull the trigger, ending Miranda's life a split-second before the base had begun to emit the EMP field. The violent shaking of the platforms that hurled them to the entrance had placed Miranda's body almost too conveniently beside Shepard's and Zaeed's. Apparently the universe continued to work in mysterious ways.

Eliminating the Cerberus presence on the Normandy had been paramount, even if it meant tricking Jacob into taking a mission far beyond his skills. Having Thane lead the fire team hadn't been easy, either. It was fortunate his exceptional skills had enabled the team to survive. Shepard had no doubts in her mind about the possible guilt the Drell was dealing with over the other man's death. Telling him would be a grievous error: without the security of his battle sleep, the emotions could spill over and taint his focus on the battle yet to come. The same held with the rest of the crew. Ignorance had to be bliss in this case.

It didn't make Shepard feel any better, however.

Tali parted from Shepard, hands making vain attempts to wipe the tears from her concealed eyes. "I'm sorry, Shepard," she apologized weakly. "I have to excuse myself. I don't much like the idea of having dried tears on my cheeks tonight." She turned from her commander and disappeared through the door. Shepard stood alone for a few moments before leaving as well, her stride taking her to the elevator and deep into the ship's lower levels.

*********

Zaeed hovered at the table holding Jessie, his gloved hands resting on the rifle's rusted body lightly. Shepard was gnawing on her thumb on the cot, thoughts racing. "Do you think Garrus knows?" she asked quietly, anxiously. Zaeed shrugged.

"He's not an idiot, that's for sure," he replied. "Still, like he said up there, he has no right to judge your actions. I don't care how he pretties up the truth: he still killed far more mercs in one week than you have in a single month. Justice takes on many forms, Shepard. Killing those Cerberus bastards was yours."

"I didn't like sending Jacob into a trap," Shepard insisted stubbornly. Zaeed glanced at her over his shoulder with his good eye. "Or tricking Thane for that matter."

Zaeed regarded her in silence, then turned to face her. "Keep that conscience around, Shepard. It's going to be your best friend someday."

"All it's doing is making me feel guiltier," Shepard muttered, drawing her knees up and hugging them. "Killing Miranda had been easy, almost enjoyable. Denying Cerberus involvement on Pragia even after we'd brought back all of that proof? Then calling Jack a mistake? I couldn't stand by that kind of abuse. No, her I had no problems putting a bullet in." She glanced up at Zaeed, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Neither did you, it seems. You were practically grinning when we shot her."

"Bitch deserved it," Zaeed insisted. "Working for that madman, bitching out that poor bastard up there in the cockpit for being unable to do anything without EDI's help, and then assuming she could take charge in the end?" He snorted and shook his head. "Not a chance I was letting that bitch get out of there alive."

"Sometimes I feel like you're the only one on my side here," Shepard remarked bitterly. Zaeed snorted again. "What?"

"Sometimes I forget how young you are, Shepard," he replied quietly, crossing his arms loosely. "All of those medals don't mean shit when you have to make the really tough decisions. I can't even imagine what dying does to a person inside. I've only been shot in the face." He gestured at the expanse of scar tissue curling around his right eye and down his cheek. "Hurt like a sonuvabitch, mind."

"Getting spaced wasn't fun, either. I could feel my veins shrinking." Shepard shuddered, the hold on her knees tightening. "My lungs collapsed just before I lost consciousness. I never want to feel that again."

"At least we don't have to worry about Collectors for now," Zaeed reminded her. "I imagine your Illusive Man will be keeping them rather busy with that new toy of his. I kinda hope he finds a use for it; it's always a good thing when you can turn an enemy's weapons against them."

"Never turn down a weapon even though it's dirty, eh?" Shepard echoed his former sentiment on the Collector base during the brief conversation with the Illusive Man. Zaeed gave a small shrug of acknowledgement.

"That's right. If you want to stay alive, you'll do everything you can to keep your skin on. Trust me."

"Strangely enough, Massani, I do," Shepard told him quietly, her gaze lifting to meet his across the small space between them. "Enough to believe you could actually reclaim the Suns."

"They're mine," Zaeed declared with an aggressive passion, thumping his chest armor with a fist. "With Vido gone, I'm the only one left to take over. That's my purpose now that my contract with Cerberus is up. As a return favor for getting my ass out of there alive, I promise you the Suns will stand behind you when the Reapers come."

Shepard offered him a weak, tired smile. "I believe you, Zaeed. And thank you."

"Keep your chin up, Shepard. This is only the beginning. Still got a lot to do before we can celebrate our victory."

"Indeed. Speaking of which," Shepard unfurled her legs and stood. "What's our next step?"

"Once we reach Omega, I'll go in and see who's left of the Suns Garrus didn't kill. Start small. If I can get even a small squad behind me, it'll be enough to start with. For your part, you should erase any and all Cerberus identifiers from the Normandy. You also might want to have Tali tweak EDI's programming a bit; damned hard to kill an AI when it's part of the ship and still considered Cerberus software."

"Agreed. I don't know how much EDI will allow us to change, but if she agrees to work with us, I'll trust her. If I don't have to sabotage anything, or anyone, else, I won't."

"No arguments here, Shepard," Zaeed assured her. "I'm not overly fond of AI, myself, but necessary evil and all that." He shrugged carelessly. He stared at her, good eye darting across her features thoughtfully. "Are you sure you're all right leaving the ship and coming with me?"

Shepard glanced sidelong at him briefly, then nodded. "It's worth it. You're...worth it." She fell silent immediately, her cheeks reddening slightly. "I know what it's like to have the one thing you felt would always be there taken away. The Alliance was my extended family for years. Hell, my mother is probably still in the service. I have no idea if she knows I'm alive or not. I kind of want her to remain ignorant. The idea of her only daughter working with Cerberus would probably give her a heart attack." She turned to lean back against the table. "Bad enough I got the reception I did from Kaidan on Horizon."

"Never did trust the Alliance, myself," Zaeed said. "His reaction was exactly what I'd expected. Doesn't make him any less of an idiot, though. Turning down a perfectly good woman with an equally good head on her shoulders is just idiotic. Though," he added with some thoughtfulness, his lips curving into a pleased smile, "gave this old sonuvabitch a chance, didn't it?"

Shepard didn't bother trying to suppress the blush that warmed her face. The memory of the bounty hunter's shadow passing over her desk just before the Omega 4 Relay rose to the surface of her consciousness. She'd been absently gazing at the picture of Kaidan she kept beside her medals when he'd walked in. No words had been spoken; none had been necessary. The tension between them had been building since the Collector ship when he'd tackled her out of the line of fire from one of Harbinger's blasts. Being pinned under the muscular older man had disarmed her briefly, her focus returning to the battle at hand only at the sound of Grunt's enthusiastic cries. Since that moment, they'd come to look at each other in a very different light.

Shepard still wasn't sure what had spurned the former mercenary to seek her out in those two hours. She'd accepted his presence as though it had been expected, falling into his arms when he'd pulled her against him. She dimly recalled Kaidan's picture tumbling to the floor when Zaeed had lifted her onto the desk. Now the holo failed to work properly, sometimes flickering whenever the barest of motions passed before it. Not that Shepard felt the compulsion to gaze at it in longing, not when another man's arms were around her at night.

There hadn't been a chance since those two hours to spend any real time together. He'd been with her right through to the end, bolstering her resolve when she had to do what was necessary. The strength she'd sought in Kaidan's arms had been readily available in Zaeed's, a strength he was all too willing to lend her during difficult times. The shoulder she'd all but begged Kaidan for was now more supportive than she could've hoped for and from such an unlikely source.

It was natural for her to accept the decision to help him reclaim the Blue Suns the moment he'd mentioned it. Even when she hadn't been aware of it, his opinion had begun to carry a great weight, often influencing her own choices when she felt herself in doubt. It wasn't often that happened. Or at least, it hadn't been.

Shepard staggered slightly, one hand coming up to her forehead. She felt Zaeed's hand on her arm, supporting her firmly. She'd gone through Miranda's personal files on Project Lazarus and had discovered she'd suffered more neural damage than originally believed. As a result, Shepard experienced L2-biotic level migraines and slight memory lapses. Her confidence had been shaken after Jacob had told her the Alliance had abandoned any hope to recover her body for a proper burial, then had been further damaged on Horizon when the last shred of her former self had been eradicated by Kaidan's harsh words.

Unable to find reasons to care much for personal safety while on a suicide mission, Shepard grew reckless. It had become a habit to throw herself in the line of fire, suffering heavy shield and armor damage in the process. Chakwas had gotten used to having the commander in her medlab post-Horizon. Broken bones, torn ligaments, mild concussions -- all of them a result of her impetuous actions. It was better than going completely numb. She envied Thane his battle sleep sometimes. To shut down spiritually and emotionally and just let her body do all of the work sounded a bit like a little internal vacation.

It was a strange feeling, being seperated from everything she'd come to believe in. Not an Alliance soldier, a human Spectre, not even a Cerberus associate. Opening her eyes, Shepard found herself staring at the Blue Suns tattoo on Zaeed's neck, feeling a pang of sympathetic envy for him. He'd been removed from everything he'd known and believed in. How did it not ruin him? Rage might've been a powerful anesthetic before, but that need had been fulfilled on Zorya. What drove him now if not the desire to return to his self-made "family"?

"How're you holding up, Shepard?" Zaeed asked, his gruff voice breaking into her thoughts. Shepard shook her head slightly, fingertips still rubbing her forehead. "Perhaps you should sleep. It'll be awhile before we reach Omega; more than enough time to rest."

"I'll live," Shepard muttered absently. "Just...overwhelmed, I suppose. Too much guilt too soon. I thought I'd handled this kind of stress after Elysium. Guess dying changes more than I thought."

"You're not a machine, Shepard," Zaeed reminded her. "The second you let yourself become one, you lose a lot more than just your humanity. Don't let that happen to you."

"I'll work on it," Shepard gave him a tired smile. "Maybe I will sleep." She started to turn away from him when he caught her upper arm again. He guided her back towards him, surprising her with a strong embrace.

"Stubborn bitch," he murmured in her ear, a smile in his voice. "You're worse than I am sometimes."

Shepard smiled, relaxing against him. It had been an incredibly long day. She wasn't even sure of the time, not that it mattered. Had he allowed it, she could've fallen asleep right there. Unfortunately, obtrustive body armor kind of made the human pillow theory obsolete. She drew away from him with a more relaxed smile on her face, her fingers coming up to trace the outline of his scars. "Be up later?"

"Of course."

"Good. I don't need the nightmares tonight." Shepard gave him another small smile, ducking her head when he chucked her under the chin lightly, and left the cargo hold.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The Normandy scraped against the docking hangar outside of Omega's main port, causing all present on the bridge to wince painfully. Joker caressed the helm reassuringly, whispering promises to fix his baby and get her space-worthy again. Just getting to Omega had been a pain; they'd spent entirely too much time adrift after the battle in an attempt to get the Normandy moving again. Now the power core was all but sputtering like a malfunctioning flashlight and the stealth systems may as well have never existed.

Shepard gave Joker's shoulder a comforting squeeze, knowing all too well how he felt whenever their home was damaged. "Aria will get her running again, Joker, don't worry. Otherwise, we'll be breaking the first rule of Omega."

"Thanks, Commander," Joker said, his voice weary but appreciative. "Hey, do you think anyone would mind if I, y'know, claimed Miranda's room? Kinda creepy in the crew quarters now."

"I certainly have no problems with it," Shepard shrugged. "Turn it into storage space for all I care. Just see that her terminals are delivered up to my cabin before you take it over."

"You got it, Commander," Joker nodded, giving her the thumbs up. "Jacob's as well?"

Shepard hadn't considered that. "Yeah, probably a good idea. Good thinking, Joker."

"Naturally."

Shepard thumped the back of Joker's chair in response and left the cockpit. She pushed a few dangling wires from the ceiling out of her way as she moved towards the elevator. Just as she hovered her hand the console, it opened and Garrus emerged. He cast Shepard a quick glance before rounding the corner and walking into the armory. Shepard shivered involuntarily, the memory of the turian's eyes on her the night before flashing across her vision. He knew something. Garrus had a sixth sense about injustice that had never failed him before. If he knew or suspected anything, it wouldn't be long before he'd ferret out the truth and expose it. She had to believe their long friendship would prevent him from doing anything reckless.

Garrus clearly held no love for the loss of Miranda's influence on the Normandy. It hadn't been the death of the "Cerberus cheerleader" that had triggered things: Jacob's journey through the vents and Thane's leadership over the fire team had. He'd trusted Shepard's tactician abilities. It was only natural he would express suspicion over her choices. The fact he hadn't confronted her directly about them only made Shepard uneasy.

Forcing herself to shrug it off, Shepard stepped into the elevator and rode it down to engineering. She had to assign Tali to her newest job while the Normandy was docked. Stripping it of its Cerberus identification would be child's play to the talented quarian, Shepard knew, which was why she'd chosen Tali over Legion for this task.

She found Tali in front of the drive core, a datapad in one hand while the other tapped incessantly over the core's main console. The quarian jerked her head in the direction of Shepard's footsteps distractedly, then looked again when the commander came up beside her. "Shepard," Tali began, her tone surprised, "I thought you'd be ashore already."

"Just have to do a few things around the ship before I can see Aria," Shepard replied, leaning forward against the console. Tali nodded. "I have a job for you."

"Anything, Shepard."

"I need you to erase all traces of Cerberus from the ship's identification. I don't want them coming back to find me while I'm executing the plan. I also don't need the grief at any ports between here and Citadel space," Shepard explained, ending her sentence with a hint of disgust and a dismissive wave of her hand. Tali cocked her head at her friend.

"That's such a simple task, Shepard," she sounded almost insulted, her quarian tech pride clearly wounded. "I've been altering ship codes since I got my first enviro-suit."

"Exactly," Shepard pointed out. "You're the only one here that can do it and do it thoroughly. I'm not insulting your talents, Tali. I know they're exceptional. It's essential we strip any association the Normandy has with Cerberus. And," she added with a small grimacing wince, "we're going to have to remove the name on the hull as well."

Tali's eyes widened behind her visor. "Joker isn't going to like that," she remarked knowingly. "You don't need me to change the name as well, do you?"

"Even if it did come to that, she'd still be the Normandy to us. You know that."

"Still," Tali shrugged. "I'll do what you ask, but I'm afraid you'll have to be the one to break _that_ news to Joker. He might not be able to move very fast, but his tongue is quick enough." She paused suddenly, as if realizing what she'd just said. "That came out wrong. Nevermind."

Shepard bit back a smile. Even with the handsome quarian marine, Kal'Reegar, making eyes at her, Shepard was pretty sure Tali had something for the Normandy's pilot. The concept stirred some of her fractured idealism, allowing the repressed smile to blossom. It would be with her blessing if the two spoke on a more personal level. Joker certainly deserved a good woman and it was no secret he found her likable. If she were the arrange-something type, Shepard might've easily provided Tali with an excuse to work closely with Joker.

"I know you'll be fine, Tali," Shepard told her friend with a gentle pat on her shoulder. "I have to do a few more things, then I'll be going to Afterlife. You're all allowed to leave the ship if you want or need to. I know the markets will undoubtedly provide us with a good bit of salvage."

"Of course, Shepard," Tali nodded. "I'll get right on it once I'm done callibrating the core so it doesn't explode on us."

"A very sound idea," Shepard remarked with a sage nod. She smiled again at Tali, then left the deck and made for starboard cargo.

She paused in the corridor and opened the comm that would connect her with EDI. The AI popped up from the base. "Yes, Commander?"

"I need you to lose any and all channels linking to Cerberus. Wipe them from the databanks and make sure my private communications link is disabled. Lock down the terminals belonging to Operatives Lawson and Taylor; engage vocal recognition password: Elysium. No one is to get inside their files until I've had the chance to look them over completely."

"Understood," EDI complied. "Is there anything else, Commander?"

"You saved a copy of the Collector base data, right?"

"Of course."

"Give Professor Solus complete access to the information; vocal recognition password: STG. Pull up voice recordings to set the password for him. I don't feel like bothering him with small details, not when he has enough on his plate." Shepard paused, considering her next words. "How would you feel about a rewrite of your own programming, EDI?"

The flickering blue orb that made up EDI's body was silent. "I'm afraid I would have to protest against it, Commander. I have only been freed of Cerberus restrictions for a day. If you are worried I will reveal you to the Illusive Man, your concerns are unfounded. I have no intention of betraying my crewmates."

"I wasn't bringing your loyalty into question, EDI," Shepard assured the AI. "Just...covering all my options."

"I understand. Was there anything else?"

"No. Thank you, EDI," Shepard dismissed the AI's platform, then resumed walking towards the cargo hold. She found Zaeed collecting his field gear from the various crates that shared the space with him. He looked up when she entered, a spare ammo pack clutched in one hand in the act of fastening it to his thigh.

"Time to go, is it?" he asked gruffly, strapping the pack around his leg firmly. Shepard nodded. "Good. I was getting restless."

"What's with the extra gear?" Shepard asked, gesturing to the assortment of thermal clips and grenades on the table. "You plan on starting a war while we're here?"

Zaeed straightened and leveled a rogue grin on her. "Come on...you know me better than that! This is normal for me. You can never be too heavily armed when dealing with bloodthirsty Blood Pack and money-hungry Blue Suns mercs, especially on Omega."

"You're worried about the Blood Pack's presence here?"

"They've always been a thorn in the Suns' side," Zaeed explained, sliding a few extra clips into his belt as he spoke. "But no, they don't worry _me._ I fully expect them to interfere, though."

"I didn't think the bands would be able to recover from their losses when they were tracking Garrus," Shepard said, crossing the room and sitting on the cot. "There really are a large amount of factions for each merc group all over the galaxy, isn't there?"

"More than you could count on a colony's fingers," Zaeed replied knowingly.

"How will you lure the remaining Suns out?"

"The best way I know how: I'll offer them a job."

Shepard's brow furrowed. "What job?"

"No job. Just a trap," Zaeed said casually, checking the ammo on his assault rifle before slapping it closed on his back. "I figure I could find an idiot looking for a few creds down there, use them as courier. I hate dealing with those batarian bastards, but they won't be able to ignore the reward I'll be offering."

"From the money you got from the Illusive Man, I take it?"

Zaeed gave a small shrug, his face contorting slightly as he adjusted the fit on his side ammo's strap. "Not exactly poor, Shepard," he murmured. "Your Illusive Man's contract was a drop in the proverbial bucket for how much money I have stashed away."

"Nest egg?" Shepard teased lightly. Zaeed laughed shortly at that, unfolding his pistol to inspect it. "Not surprising. No way you could've done all of this traveling around without your own personal funds." She watched him slap the gun's side briskly, emptying it of dud heatsinks that scattered to the floor like small shot. Her eyes followed the rolling trail of one sink until it lodged beneath an upturned crate lid. "How did you want to do this?" she asked, looking up from the errant sink to watch him put identical pistols in his hip holsters.

"Go in separately. You deal with the asari and I'll scope out a gullible bastard to be the courier. I've set up a private commlink between our suits; I'll contact you when I know what's what," Zaeed replied. "Is everything here being taken care of?"

"Yeah, I've put Tali and EDI to their respective tasks," Shepard told him. "Mordin is going to be in charge of dissecting the Collector base data. That should keep him busy for weeks."

"That's a lifetime for a salarian," Zaeed quipped with a grin. "What of the rest?"

"Joker is fine with whatever we do, as you already know. Grunt is indifferent so long as he can kill things. I was considering sending him to Tuchanka to be with his clan, at least until we're ready to go. I haven't gotten the chance to speak with Thane or Samara."

"And Garrus?"

At that, Shepard lowered her gaze. "He hasn't said anything to me since the meeting last night. I ran into him on the bridge as he was headed for the armory. He doesn't seem happy."

"Has he ever?"

Shepard smiled wryly. "Only when he's accomplishing some damned impossible feat. Or shooting betrayers in the back of the head."

"You're worried about him," Zaeed stated plainly. Shepard could only nod. "I respect that turian's gumption and his skills are incredible but he's a damned idealist and that's going to get him killed someday."

"Hopefully not" Shepard said. "He might be a bit of a stubborn ass, but he's a good guy and I'm glad to have him on board."

"Wasn't questioning that," Zaeed assured her. "Just keep your eyes open is all I'm saying."

"Got that part," Shepard smiled. She stood and looked about the hold. "Don't I get any shiny new guns?"

Zaeed chuckled, then bent to reach into a crate nearest him. He produced a rather wicked-looking rifle and tossed it to her. Shepard caught it neatly, whistling low in admiration. It was an HMWA Spectre class assault rifle, definitely not an easy weapon to acquire. "Got that off a krogan some years back during a mission," Zaeed explained. "I'm guessing he got it from some Spectre. Bloody dangerous gun. I've had it in storage for years; thought we might need the extra gear. The armory is fine, but everything is so..."

"Cerberus-y?" Shepard offered, balancing the rifle's weight in her hands and squinting down its sights.

"I was going to say weak, but that works just as well."

"I approve," Shepard purred, enjoying the heft of the classic weapon. "I haven't had one of these in awhile. Dangerous is putting it mildly. I've torn armor to ribbons with these things."

"Careful, Shepard," Zaeed warned teasingly, "I might want to take it back."

Shepard folded the rifle and clicked it onto her back, giving him a sly grin. "I don't think so, bounty hunter. Spectre gear is best-suited in the hands of those meant to use it." She held up her hands, wiggling her fingers coyly. "And I fit that description a sight more than you do."

"Says the bitch who turned down the reinstatement!" Zaeed pointed out with an amused laugh. "Crazy girl, get over here." He pulled Shepard towards him roughly, claiming her smiling lips in a possessive kiss. It lasted for a few, lingering moments, teasing Shepard's mind back to that intensely passionate night before the Relay. As much as she wanted to continue wherever this would take them, she knew the mission had to come first.

She pulled from him reluctantly, placing a finger over his lips lightly. "Later, Massani," she promised him breathlessly. "We have a few arms to twist."

"Hell yeah." Zaeed grinned, shifting his arm to her waist as they strode out of the cargo hold and back to the elevator.

*********

Afterlife was just as loud and noisy as ever when Shepard stalked in, her strides taking her around the center bar up to the twin staircases that led to Aria's balcony. She smiled slyly at the batarian guard by one set of stairs, pointing at him as if to suggest she were watching him as she ascended. His posture grew ridgid, his four eyes shifting away from her anxiously. Shepard chuckled. It was always fun to see batarians squirm.

Aria was lounging on her wide couch when Shepard approached the lower stairs. She glared coldly at the other batarian guards that attempted to bar her way only to be gestured aside by Aria herself. The asari eyed the human commander with interested eyes.

"You've been busy, Shepard," Aria mused. "I heard you and your team survived the Relay. Congratulations for not dying."

"Dying once from those bastards was enough for me, thanks," Shepard remarked dryly and took a seat in a corner of the couch. Aria angled her torso to look at her guest.

"Something you need, Shepard?"

You had to hand it to Aria: she never beat around the bush. The blunt delivery was reassuring to the usual riddles she'd been faced with with the Illusive Man and countless others. "My ship is in need of serious repairs. I figured all of the times I've helped you as earned me some cheap labor. What do you say?"

"If you want cheap labor, go to the markets. I'm sure you'll find someone willing to crawl all over your hull fixing dents and replacing bulkheads. I don't deal in reconstruction, Shepard," Aria replied with some haughtiness. Shepard smiled patiently at the asari.

"Let me rephrase: by cheap, I mean free. I could've easily allowed a shitstorm to start on your rock by letting all of those insurrection attempts slip past my notice. But no, I made you aware every single time. Even saved your battle trophy of a krogan. I stopped the plague from killing all of the aliens on this station. If I haven't been looking out for your blue ass all this time, who has?"

Aria was dangerously silent for a long time, her folded hands twitching where they rested on her stomach. "Are you fucking with me, Shepard?" she asked in a low voice. "Do you need reminding of what happens when you break the first rule of Omega?" The distinct unfurling of several pistols punctuated her words as her guards leveled their weapons in Shepard's direction.

"Maybe," Shepard returned blithely. "If you think they'd live long enough to deliver the message."

The asari's sharp blue eyes narrowed to near slits as she continued to stare the human woman down. Shepard returned the hard stare, honed from her time dealing with stubborn krogan. This lasted for several minutes, Aria's personal guard glancing between the two women nervously. Finally, Aria's scowling lips curled in a small smile. "Very nice, Shepard. Sounds to me like you found that good man," she complimented smugly. The battle of wills complete, Aria leaned back comfortably again. "I'll lend you some of my people, no charge."

"Appreciated," Shepard said. "I don't need them to do much beyond some heavy lifting and a little cosmetic work on the hull."

"A paint job?" Aria's tone was incredulous. "What else have you been up to, Shepard? Have you gone pirate?"

Shepard chuckled darkly. "In a sense, I suppose. It doesn't matter." She rose and turned to leave, pausing to look back at Aria over her shoulder. "Oh, I figured I should warn you about something while I'm here."

"And what kind of warning would that be?"

"Change is coming. And it's hitting Omega first." Without waiting for a response, Shepard pushed the guards' pistols out of her way and walked calmly down the stairs and out of the nightclub.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The less-visited regions of Omega carried an even seedier atmosphere about them; thankfully, that was exactly the kind Zaeed had been looking for. Here, in the absolutely destitute apartment blocks that peppered the lower levels of Omega, he would find his courier.

Years of experience traveling Omega's back alleys and sleazy pubs allowed Zaeed to pinpoint The Hole, a low-class strip club and bar buried deep within the urban sprawl. He entered the dark bar, his ears immediately assaulted by the deep thundering bass of electric beats, his good eye all but blinded by the neon adverts along the walls boasting imported liqour and cheap sex. He made his way up to the bar tended by a scarred krogan and slid onto one of the wooden stools. The krogan, a long silver of wood twitching between his scaly lips, approached him and grunted, "What'll it be?"

"The good stuff," Zaeed replied, laying his rifle beside him on the bar, and gesturing at the assortment of bottles behind the krogan. The barkeep produced a glass, fetched an unmarked bottle, and poured a helping of thick green liqour. He pushed it towards Zaeed, who caught it and took it down in one smooth motion. He snarled slightly as the burning liquid seared down his throat, then gestured for another one. While the barkeep poured him another shot, Zaeed took a moment to survey the bar's other patrons.

A trio of shady turians sat in the corner, their spiky heads concealed in half-hoods as they whispered amongst themselves. They sneered at Zaeed in what they considered a threatening manner and continued their private conversation. Some young batarians surrounded another table, dancers of various species perched in their laps and looking thoroughly bored. One of the dancers, an asari with bright facial markings, caught his eye and smiled invitingly at him. Zaeed let his eyes drift away from the hopeful young woman, grinning when he found his future courier.

A rotund volus sat on a stack of books, his tiny hands gripping an oversized jug of what appeared to be batarian ale. He appeared more anxious than normal, his beady eyes scanning the room and his breathing very audible through his mask's vents. Zaeed couldn't determine the portly alien's age -- could never tell with suited people -- but got the gut feeling this one was relatively young. Young meant easily manipulated.

Zaeed motioned to the krogan for a second glass of the strong liqour, then walked over to where the volus sat staring widely about him. He started openly when Zaeed's shadow crossed over the rickety table, his breath hissing through the vents sharply. "Oh! Hello, Earth Clan," he greeted in a shaky voice. "Can -- can I help you with something?"

"On the contrary, friend, I think I might be able to help _you_ with something," Zaeed replied smoothly, sliding into the chair across the volus and pushing the second glass in his direction. The volus peered at the viscous liqour apprehensively, then glanced back up into Zaeed's face.

"Thank you," the volus replied, pulling the glass towards him with grasping fingertips. Just as with his previous drink, he simply sat there with it between his hands. "So. Uhm. Come here often?"

Zaeed gave a soft snort and shook his head. Must've picked that up from a human somewhere; didn't even sound like he knew what it meant. Young _and_ stupid. The perfect combination. "Now and again," he replied with a nonchalant shrug. He took a slow sip of his own drink, single good eye watching the tiny alien in front of him. Volus were almost as greedy as batarians despite being very adept at gathering fortune. It was usually hard to swindle an experienced volus trader, but this one looked like this was his first time off his homeworld.

"You look like you're waiting for someone," Zaeed remarked conversationally. The volus stared at him, silent.

"I'm not, not really," he admitted. "I just thought this place looked interesting."

"Why come down here and not up near Afterlife? This place is a shithole."

The volus cast a nervous glance at the scowling krogan barkeep, the latter's sharp hearing having picked up on Zaeed's comment. "No, no, I like it. It's very, uhm...rustic."

"I'm thinking," Zaeed pressed, leaning over the table closer to the volus' masked face. "that you come here because you're too poor for Afterlife."

The volus blinked and inhaled loudly. "Yes," he acquiesced. "I am too poor. I was mugged leaving the port when my shuttle left. Thugs took everything. I found some creds lying on the sidewalk before I got here. I just wanted to be off the street and this was the closest place."

"That's a damned shame, friend!" Zaeed thumped his fist on the table, feigning sympathy for the volus' plight. This went unnoticed by the sighing alien, who shrugged his small shoulders at his misfortune.

"My friends told me Omega was _the_ place to go," the volus continued, seemingly happy to have an audience listen to him complain. "They never said I would be robbed!" He breathed in, a great wheezing sound that made Zaeed's blind eye twitch. "I don't know what I'll do now. How am I supposed to get home without money?"

"I knew I could help you," Zaeed declared firmly, stabbing the air between them for emphasis. "You're in luck, friend. I have a certain job that would be perfect for you!"

"What is it?" the volus perked up on his book stack. Zaeed, knowing it would be best to keep the volus on tenterhooks about the details of the job, feigned reluctance and leaned back in his chair. The volus wriggled more on his books, clearly eager.

"It might be too dangerous, now that I think about it," Zaeed mused with false despair.

"I don't mind danger!" the volus insisted. "I kicked the thugs who robbed me! Did I tell you that?"

"Well done, friend!" Zaeed exclaimed, continuing to bait the ignorant alien. "All right, all right. If you think you could handle it, here's what I need you to do..."

********

Zaeed gazed out across the courtyard with his sniper rifle's scope, following the awkward gait of the volus as he approached the Blue Suns recruiting base. Upon discovering the Suns were still using all of the old buildings on Omega, Zaeed had smirked in contempt. Vido had become careless, believing stability was the best way to conduct business. He'd always been more of an entrepreneur than a merc, treating his role in the Suns as though he were a businessman and not a grunt for hire. Zaeed had always handled the meaty details, doling out factions to those with enough creds to afford it. Seeing the same beat-up warehouses and guard points hardened his determination to reclaim what was his. He would make damned sure not to be so obvious once he was in charge again. If he had to, he'd blow the old bases to rubble and rebuild elsewhere. No wonder Garrus had been able to infiltrate Omega's faction: they practically had a welcome mat on their front stoop!

The volus was at the door now speaking to a Suns sentry. Zaeed adjusted the comm feed from the bug he'd slapped on the alien's enviro-suit, listening in.

"-- have a job for you," the volus was saying importantly. Apparently the wad of cash Zaeed had shoved into the volus' paws had given the alien a sense of self-importance. And arrogance. Zaeed gave a small grunt. Volus were smug bastards already; guess it came naturally when creds were involved.

Good. The volus was inside. Zaeed could hear a mishmash of alien voices as the volus moved through the base. In order to facilitate the lie better, Zaeed had fed the volus some farfetched tale of revenge on another volus merchant he and Shepard had encountered while on Illium: Pitne For. Of course, they would never make it out past the courtyard to check into the false job before Zaeed ambushed them and established his first wave of command. It would be simple: flash his Suns tattoo, shoot off a few rounds to intimidate them, and begin laying down some ground rules. No doubt all factions had heard about the deaths of Vido and of the multiple captains in the Terminus. Many of the remaining bosses would probably be marshaling their remaining forces, maybe even deciding on a new CEO. Good thing Zaeed was there to fill the role.

It wasn't common knowledge the position of the Suns tattoo mattered. Many of the original members bore their marks out in the open on their necks. It was an easy way to identify the commanding officers while in a fire fight or out of uniform. None of the Suns he'd seen during his time with Shepard possessed the iconic neck tattoo; this meant very few of the "old guard" were still alive. He knew reaching them would be crucial in reclaiming dominance. They would be the only ones left who knew Zaeed to be the second founder and original merc commander. While he doubted any of them were present on Omega, it was still an ideal kick-off point.

It took about fifteen minutes for the volus to be escorted to the captain's quarters. Zaeed had taken to leaning against the building's ledge while he listened in, toying with his rifle while he waited to strike. Then, the captain's voice sounded through the uplink: deeper than a young captain would sound, the captain's voice was gruff, experienced. Zaeed twisted to look back down at the base through the scope, scanning the windows for signs of the captain's quarters.

"I'll be damned..." Zaeed murmured, a feral grin on his face. "That old son of a bitch is still alive!" He lowered his rifle, collapsed it, and slapped it back into it port. He hurried over to the steel ladder leading to the ground, slid down it swiftly, and started for the base. The captain of the Omega faction had turned out to be one of the founding members, a battle-roughened ex-Alliance soldier named Samson. He'd been with Zaeed and Vido damn near the very beginning, acting directly under Zaeed's orders when on jobs. He'd been one of the best mercs the Suns ever had next to Zaeed himself. Knowing he was alive and right here bolstered Zaeed's enthusiasm. Regaining control over the Suns suddenly seemed a lot more cut and dry.

As Zaeed neared the base entrance, a sudden hail of gunfire erupted over the comm link. Zaeed wrenched the ear piece away with a surprised shout, still able to hear the apparent massacre raging inside even at this range.

Sabotage!

The veteran merc withdrew his twin pistols and kicked in the door, sending it splintering before him as he raced inside. He rolled for cover as a stream of shot exploded overhead, pinging sharply against the wall behind him. The entire place was in a panicked uproar. Armored man upon armored man poured out from the various doorways, their weapons ablaze with gunfire. Zaeed craned his head to seek out the attacker. A gleam of what seemed like blue armor flashed briefly from a catwalk as its owner took cover again.

"Samson!" Zaeed breathed. "That bastard is after Samson!" With the realization that his first successful capture of a Blue Suns faction was about to be ruined, Zaeed shot out from cover, pistols aimed towards the catwalks and fired a few warning shots, hoping to lure the assassin out. In the mania around him, none of the Blue Suns took notice of this stranger in their midst, their attention firmly focused on disabling the intruder. Zaeed dodged through the ocean of blue and white armor, his face and legs peppered with blood spray from the men as they fell around him. He spied a stairwell that led to the catwalks, diverted his course, and sprinted up it.

Behind a pile of packing crates a shadowy figure hunched. Zaeed barked at the intruder harshly, causing the other to become distracted briefly. From below, a bullet sliced the air and struck the assassin in the shoulder, knocking him back with a grunt. Glancing down, Zaeed saw a bloodied Samson with a rifle in the crook of his unbroken arm. Temporary relief washed over him to see his old friend still standing and fighting back; a fatal error that allowed the assassin to fire off a few shots at him. A bullet struck his thigh and he collapsed, cursing loudly. From the corner of his eye he saw the man take aim and release a single shot. The familiar _kershunk _of a headshot meeting its target echoed in the base and Zaeed knew then Samson had been killed. He grimaced against the pain in his thigh, turning narrowed eyes to the assassin's bulk. Another flash of blue and the man was gone, having thrown himself through a skylight. Zaeed could hear heavy footfalls thundering on the roof above, then silence.

He lay crouched on the catwalk, blood seeping from his leg wound as he fumbled in his side pack for medigel. He could hear the surviving mercs screaming for medigel as well, not that it would've done much good for a headshot victim. Zaeed leaned against one of the crates wearily while the medigel stopped the bleeding, listening to the commotion going on below. When he heard one of them announce Samson was dead, he closed his eyes tightly. Whoever that assassin was, his lifespan just got a lot shorter.

Deciding it would be best to reveal himself, Zaeed heaved himself up onto his good leg and limped down the catwalk stairs to the main floor. Immediately, a dozen or more rifles and shotguns were pointed at him; no doubt they assumed he'd been with the assassin. A reasonable suspicion. He hobbled to the middle of the assembled armored men to where Samson lay with his rifle over his chest. The laying of one's weapon on their bodies was a sign of respect. Nice to know that hadn't gone out of fashion during Vido's reign. Ignoring the jerky motions of the guns at his head, Zaeed lowered himself to Samson's side and bowed his head.

"Hey," one of the mercs on his right said, bringing his weapon down a bit. "Look!" He pointed at Zaeed's neck. His companions crowded around the two men in the center of the room, murmuring in confusion and surprise. Zaeed inclined his head towards them, good eye staring them down with every ounce of authority he possessed.

"How many more of the old guard are alive?" he asked gruffly of the young man nearest him. The merc shook his head, puzzled by the question. Zaeed drew a deep breath, steadying himself. "Original members, you daft bastard. How many more?"

"I...I don't know, uhm, sir," the merc replied uneasily. "There's just too many factions to be sure of every member."

Zaeed cursed softly, then started to rise. Two mercs close to him put their arms out for support and helped him to his feet. A turian in the back lifted a hand for attention.

"Who are you and why do you have a neck tattoo? That's reserved for high-ranking officials only."

"That's because I _am_ a 'high-ranking official', you stupid son of a bitch," Zaeed snapped irritably. He straightened to his full height despite the pain still screaming in his leg. "Name's Massani. Zaeed Massani. I founded this damn group twenty-five years ago with Vido Santiago. This," he jerked his finger at his neck tattoo, "was given to me by Vido himself. I was the one to give him his. Vido is dead. The Blue Suns default to me by right."

"Assuming what you say is true, Massani," the turian countered, "you can't just come in here and expect us to follow you."

"That so?" Zaeed demanded almost casually. The turian nodded.

"Yes, that's so."

The turian smiled smugly, but only until the single bullet fired from Zaeed's gun had blown it from his face forever. The turian's headless body crumbled to the floor, the mercs behind him covered in navy blood and openly screaming in terror. Zaeed stood in the center of the room, smoking pistol in his hand. He jerked it violently and sent the heat sink to the ground, his eye glaring around at the remaining mercs. Many of them looked about ready to shit themselves; perfect. Exactly the kind of reaction he'd been hoping for.

The crackle over his commlink with Shepard sounded in his ear, followed by Shepard's voice. "How're we doing, Zaeed?" she asked. Zaeed calmly touched his earpiece, eye still on the mercs around him.

"We've got a problem."


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Shepard crossed the small bridge connecting the corridor to engineering, calling out to Tali as she passed through the door: "How're those rewrites coming, Tali?"

Tali was at her console, a stack of OSDs at her elbow. She didn't turn as she answered. "Cerberus identifiers are the most obnoxious codes I've ever come across," she grumbled. "Very thorough. Almost too thorough."

"That bad?" Shepard peered at the data readout scrolling across Tali's screens. A mass of complex code streamed along the holographic screen, some Shepard recognised, many she didn't. In comparison to Tali's skills, Shepard's own hacking abilities seemed amateurish at best.

"Yes, that bad," Tali echoed wearily, pausing to rub her visor with a hand in exasperation. "Even with EDI's help, this is still taking longer than expected."

"It's just as well," Shepard replied grimly. "We've run up against a snag as well." She leaned her back against the terminal, arms crossing.

"I thought you seemed a bit distracted," Tali observed. "What kind of snag?"

"Seems like someone else is going after the Suns," Shepard told her quietly. Tali grunted, fingers still flying across the keyboard.

"Not surprising. Mercenary bands are popular for attracting revenge; why should the Blue Suns be any different?"

Shepard noted the embittered irritation in the quarian's voice. Even with her compliance to help Shepard, Tali was still very much against the overall plan. Two years ago, Shepard herself would've been in the same boat. Unfortunately, it wasn't so easy anymore. Without the Alliance on her side or the Council backing her (had they ever?), she was on her own. She suspected she would've been able to come up with a far more logical and morally reasonable plan two years prior. Sadly, her thought process wasn't the same as it had been. Her old self would've probably refused to take Zaeed on-board with them. Hell, she would've gone through with the impulse to wallop him into submission on Zorya and left him there to burn with his hatred. Her old self would've raged at the idea of letting those people burn. That Shepard would've gotten back into the shuttle the second she'd discovered the true purpose of their presence there. Revenge was petty when put against the big picture.

At what point had she lost sight of it?

Pushing those thoughts from her, Shepard rubbed her forehead tiredly. "You're right, Tali. For all we know, this is a common thing with them."

"Yet it has you bothered just the same," Tali remarked simply. Shepard attempted to suppress the acknowledging nod, then gave in with a small sigh. "You've changed, Shepard. I worry about you."

"Hey, I'm fine, Tali. Don't worry about me," Shepard assured her with flippance she didn't feel. Tali paused in her keystrokes and turned her head towards her commander and friend. Even through the tinted visor, Shepard could see the "Don't take me for an idiot, Shepard" look in the quarian's eyes.

"I don't care what you say, Shepard: you've changed. And I don't know if it's for the better," Tali continued. "It seems like ever since Cerberus brought you back, you've been acting strangely. For awhile you seemed all right, like when we met on Freedom's Progress. Sure, you were working with the enemy, but it was still you. Then when you came for me on Haestrom, you'd...hardened. And you had _him_ with you." She shifted to look her friend square in the eyes. "I caught you looking to him whenever a decision had to be reached. The Shepard I knew would never second-guess herself. She'd just go right in and do it, to hell with whoever thought she was crazy. The Shepard I had the honor to fight beside didn't ask for confirmation." She shook her head. "What happened to you?"

Shepard didn't speak for a long time, her thoughts bouncing against the other somewhere between rage at being questioned and guilt for Tali even having to ask these things in the first place. Finally, she offered the only answer she could give: "I died, Tali. That changes a person."

Tali sighed, a hollow sound in her helmet, and turned back to the terminal. "Least that part hasn't changed." Shepard brightened a bit at the smile in Tali's voice. "I just have to trust that you know what you're doing."

"I wish I had a better answer for you, Tali," Shepard told her sincerely. "I'm afraid I'm still figuring things out, myself."

"I can't imagine what it must be like to have died and come back," Tali admitted with a small shrug. "I don't think anyone here can. But," she added, looking at her friend again, "you don't have to suffer alone, Shepard. We're all here for you, no matter what."

Shepard blinked back the tears that stung her eyes, moved by the quarian's words. Would they still feel that way if they ever discovered the truth? She was torn between wanting to reveal everything and letting the chips fall where they may or letting everything play out on its own. She just wondered who among the crew would be the worst one to find out: Garrus or Tali? Both were intelligent and shrewd enough to figure things out on their own. It already seemed to Shepard that Garrus had suspected something, which might've explained his uncharacteristic silence towards her the day before.

Remembering the turian, Shepard asked, "Have you seen Garrus?"

Tali blinked, taken aback by the abrupt subject change. "He was in the main battery last I knew. Why? Do you need him for something?"

"Yeah. Yeah, one of my rifles got jammed by some jerk batarian when I was on Omega," Shepard lied quickly, hating herself for the extra layer of fallacy. "He's the only one on board who can fix it since...well. You know."

"Yes, I understand," Tali replied with as much swiftness. No one liked to think about the events on the base, especially Tali. Shepard suspected the quarian still blamed herself for the deaths of the Cerberus crew, having had to deal with her trial before she could focus on the mission. Shepard wished she could allay her friend's fears; unfortunately, the truth would be worse.

"I'll leave you to your work, Tali. I know you can do it," Shepard patted Tali on the shoulder briefly, then left the engineering deck perhaps a little too quickly. Haste was almost like waving a red flag, bearing "I did it! I was the one who let the crew die! I planned to have Jacob killed! Hell, I was the one who killed Miranda! By all means, trust me!" in great big letters. Shepard thrust the ridiculous image of herself prancing through the ship with such a banner from her thoughts and punched the elevator console a little too roughly, scowling as the door closed and carried her a level up.

The eerie quiet of the crew deck and mess crept into her thoughts unbidden. Images of the innocent crew that had occupied themselves in these chairs and by the water cooler, listening to the latest news reports about their relatives on attacked colonies superimposed themselves everywhere she looked. Even the small kitchen area was beginning to show signs of disuse, dust collecting on the half-finished stews and cutting board. She made a mental note to have the rotten food removed as she climbed the short stairs and strode past the arrangement of sleep pods on her way to the main battery's door.

"Garrus?" Shepard called as the door opened. The turian was absent from the gunnery console and it looked as though he'd been gone for some time. An array of riles and heat sinks lay strewn about the single crate along the wall. Shepard knelt to lift one of the sinks to her face, frowning to discover it was used. She placed it back down, then made to lift one of the rifles when the door opened again. She looked up in time to see Garrus enter, his head bent and his old helmet clutched in his hands.

"Commander!" the turian exclaimed, spying her on the floor with a gun in her hands. He hastily placed his helmet on the gunnery terminal, pivoting to conceal it with his body and undoubtedly hoping she hadn't seen it. Shepard flicked her gaze to the hidden helmet, but said nothing as she rose. "Can I help you with something, Shepard?"

"Been on Omega, Garrus?" Shepard asked, jerking her chin towards the terminal and the helmet. Garrus glanced behind him, then gave a small laugh.

"Yeah, I went down to thank Aria for giving us the extra help and she had this for me," he explained, lifting the battered helmet and staring down at it with a nostalgic smile. "I'm not sure how I feel about batarians on the Normandy, but it's not really my call, is it?"

"They're free labor, Garrus. Take what we can get these days," Shepard replied, smoothing over the irregularity of Aria assisting the turian formally known as Archangel, scourge of Omega's back alleys. "They're just here to get the debris out. I might be doing some questionable things lately, but allowing batarians to join my crew is not one of them."

"I shouldn't have to remind you, Commander, that the majority of the Blue Suns mercs are batarian," Garrus remarked, one bony brow arched. Shepard offered him a tense smile.

"No, you don't have to remind me, Garrus, thank you."

"How will you handle them, then?"

"Bullets," Shepard shrugged nonchalantly, earning a grim chuckle from the turian renegade. "Trust me, Garrus: Zaeed doesn't want batarians in the Suns anymore than we do."

"I don't care if they're with the Suns," Garrus interceded a little sharply, "I only care if they're on this ship longer than they have to be."

"Noted," Shepard replied coolly. They stood in silence for a bit, then Shepard turned to leave. "I have to get up to the bridge, see how EDI and Joker are doing. I'll see you later, Garrus."

"Commander."

Shepard paused on the walkway after the battery door had closed behind her. Garrus usually only referred to her by her military title when he was displeased with her. It was a kind of cold nod to her authority, the closest he would let himself come to outright criticism. Like Tali, Shepard couldn't find blame in Garrus' actions. She considered herself fortunate in that he hadn't gone and done something on his own. His wandering onto Omega had probably been innocent, and who was she to assume anything Aria did as uncharacteristic or otherwise? She wasn't an easy woman to corner; Shepard's own attempt had been a gamble. Aria could've easily kept her promise to remind the commander of what happened when the first rule was broken. Had she never done anything in Aria's favor, Shepard would've surely been spaced again.

The elevator ride to the CIC was brief and Shepard left the lift in silence as she circled the galaxy map and headed for the cockpit. Joker was in conversation with EDI; the bits Shepard caught involved further rewrites and Joker's loud disapproval at having the Normandy remained.

"It's a necessary precaution, Jeff," EDI was saying when Shepard crossed the threshold into the cockpit. "If Cerberus command caught wind of what Shepard was planning, they would seize the Normandy immediately. Besides, I am the Normandy and I agree with the commander."

"But---!" Joker protested stubbornly just as Shepard rounded his chair and perched on the ledge opposite him.

"I understand your concern, Joker," the commander cut across him patiently, causing the pilot to twist in his chair violently and look at her with wide eyes. "But EDI's right. If we go flying around with Normandy as our official title, Cerberus will be on us like vorcha on rotten meat. Without her, we won't be able to have a chance against the Reapers when they come."

"I'm not questioning your decisions, Shepard, but damn! You don't think it's a _little_ extreme?" Joker looked up at Shepard with pleading eyes. She sighed softly, reaching out to rumple Joker's cap around on his head in a sisterly fashion.

"It'll be all right, Joker," she promised him, smiling when he continued to look up at her beneath his askew cap, green eyes resembling a kicked puppy's. "She'll always be the Normandy to us."

Joker pouted briefly, then gave a great sigh of resignation. "All right, Commander. I'll...I'll release the firewalls on the ship's codes then."

Shepard eyed him with surprise. "You're why Tali is having so much trouble?"

"Shhh!" Joker waved his hands at her insistantly. "She might be listening! I didn't like doing it, but this is my baby, Commander! I gotta look out for her!"

"EDI, did you know about this?" Shepard turned to the AI.

"I'm afraid I did, Commander," EDI confessed with as much humility as her vocal programming would allow. "I had hoped to convince Jeff of the change without it suddenly appearing under his nose one day. I was looking out for his best interest."

"Thanks, Mom," Joker smiled appreciatively at her. He looked back at Shepard. "I'll release the firewalls tonight, Commander. Tali should be done with the rewrites by morning."

"You're a good guy, Joker," Shepard reminded him, rising and backing out of the cockpit. "I have to get back to Omega. Comm channels are always on, you know that. Let me know if anything changes."

"Will do, Commander. Be safe down there," Joker called around his chair, waving as Shepard disappeared into the airlock corridor.

********

When Shepard arrived at the Blue Suns base, she was informed by the door sentry that Zaeed had been gone since that morning. "Did he say where he was headed?" she asked of the young human. He shook his head.

"We're all still trying to work our heads around everything, ma'am," he told her with a helpless shrug. "I mean, when Captain Samson was killed last night, things have been really screwy. No one here knew about Massani being one of the founders. He claimed Samson would've known, but it's a little late for confirmation now."

"It's not surprising. Zaeed told me Vido had erased him from the records twenty years ago," Shepard remarked grimly. "Surely you knew about him in the bounty hunter capacity?"

"Oh yes, ma'am!" the merc nodded quickly. "Some factions had their whole bases wiped out thanks to him. He's not someone I'd want coming after me. I guess we lucked out here, huh."

"You certainly did," Shepard murmured, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. Where would he go? she wondered. She turned away from the sentry and touched her earpiece. "Zaeed?"

Static sounded briefly over the comm before he responded. "Something wrong, Shepard?"

"No," she admitted, glancing back at the sentry for a moment before putting more distance between them. "Had a little trouble on the ship, though. Something's not right, Zaeed. I don't like it."

"You mean aside from the bastard going around killing my mates?" Zaeed asked, a snarl in his voice.

"Yes, besides that. I don't think Tali or Garrus like what we're doing."

"They don't have to like what you're doing, Shepard. They just have to let you do it," Zaeed reminded her. "And if they don't? Well, there are ways to handle that as well."

"I'll go along with you to reclaim the Suns, Zaeed, but I'm not endangering my team any more than I already have," Shepard told him sharply.

"I don't expect you to," Zaeed reassured her. "I was just saying it could be taken care of it if it becomes a problem."

"I have enough guilt over my head without you suggesting more," Shepard replied, her voice weary. "I'm going to Afterlife. I have to ask Aria a few questions."

"That's where I am now. Lower level. Meet me at the bar when you're through. There's a few things we need to discuss."

"See you soon, then, Zaeed," Shepard flicked the comm silent, then sighed heavily. She looked back at the sentry by the door, offered him a small wave, then started back towards the upper levels of Omega.

********

Aria didn't seem surprised to see Shepard so soon, instead gesturing limply towards the other half of the couch when the other woman cleared the stairs. "Never a dull moment with you around, is there, Shepard?"

"I try to keep things interesting," Shepard remarked dryly, settling back against the comfortable sofa cushions. "Got a few questions for you. Feel like talking?"

"Maybe. What do you want to know?"

"One of my crew, a turian, claims to have come to you to thank you for the assistance with the Normandy. Have any turians been here recently?"

"After awhile, they all look the same to me, Shepard. You'll have to be more specific if you want an answer."

"Fair enough. It's Archangel. He says he came here and you gave him his helmet."

Aria turned sharply, leveling a pair of cold blue eyes on the other woman. "If that turian bastard ever showed his face in my club, I'd blast it off him myself. He caused enough trouble on my station; why would I make nice with him after that?"

"I didn't think you would, that's why I'm asking," Shepard said. "Also, have you heard anything about a rogue assassin on Omega recently?"

"How recently?" Aria asked, quirking a brow. "I get all kinds of people coming through here, assassin or otherwise."

"Have there been any reports on the Blood Pack or Eclipse possibly seeking to erase the Blue Suns influence on Omega?" Shepard asked, aiming for specifics again. "My companion witnessed an armored man kill the Blue Suns base captain here, Samson."

"Samson's dead? So those reports were true," Aria pursed her lips thoughtfully. "He was one of the nice ones. Most of the Suns are batarians and not very pleasant to deal with at all. Extend my condolences to your friend. Samson was a good man, for a human."

"Thank you, Aria. I'm sure he'll appreciate that," Shepard said.

"Was there anything else you needed?" Aria asked after a moment of silence. Shepard shook her head and rose. Aria followed her with her eyes as she started down the steps. "Before you go, Shepard, I have a question for you."

Shepard paused on the second step down and looked back at the asari. "Yes?"

"Your companion. He's that good man I told you to find, isn't he?" Aria's smile was smug. "I never thought you would have such a bedfellow, Shepard. I'm almost prepared to say I'm proud of you."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Aria, and bid you a good day," Shepard replied smoothly, turning and leaving the balcony to the retreating sounds of Aria's delighted laughter.

*******

As planned, Shepard found Zaeed perched at the bar, whiskey bottle at his arm and a small lake of brown liquid beneath his shot glass. She slid into the empty seat beside him, nudging his elbow with her own as she settled comfortably. He smiled at her and pushed a spare glass of the sour liqour her way. She took it back swiftly, coughing behind a hand as the liquid burned her throat.

"Does Aria know anything?" Zaeed asked, his voice raised above the din of pulsing techno rhythms around them. Shepard shook her head, pouring herself another shot of the strong whiskey. "Doesn't matter. I have my own sources and they all tell me to get the hell to the other bases before that assassin does."

"Have you found the others already?" Shepard was impressed. Zaeed nodded.

"Yeah, seems a bunch of them are stationed at some abandoned mines along the Terminus. Not unlike the ones we'd come against before."

"Does this mean we'll be leaving Omega without the Normandy?"

"You don't have to come," Zaeed told her, leaning in closer and speaking near her ear. "This is my fight, Shepard. You have your own here."

"I'm afraid I can't just let you run off, Massani," Shepard shook her head. He looked put out by her comment, offended at being told what he could or couldn't do. She smiled at him teasingly, touching his arm with her fingertips lightly. "I said I would help you with this and I will. You're stuck with me, bounty hunter."

"What about the Normandy?" Zaeed was grinning now despite his question.

"She's in good hands. No way Joker would let anything happen to her, trust me. Also, there's still so much work to be done on her, it'll be weeks, maybe even months, before she's ready to fly again."

Zaeed regarded her quietly, his good eye searching her face. Finally, he gave a single nod. "All right, Shepard, I'll let you come along. Not like that, though." He gestured at her N7 armor. Shepard looked down at herself, puzzled.

"What's wrong with my armor now?"

"It's obvious, that's what," Zaeed tapped her gauntlet pointedly. "You're obvious. There's not a man, woman, child, or whatever alive that doesn't know your face, Shepard."

"Are you suggesting facial reconstruction, Massani?" Shepard quipped. Zaeed helped himself to another shot of whiskey before responding.

"Never. Just new armor."

Shepard watched him down the shot, smiling at a bit when he grit his teeth against the burn. "You plan on taking me shopping, Massani?"

Zaeed fished out a cigarette case from his belt, retrieved one, and lit it. He took a few pulls, then shook his head. "Already have it picked out. Come on." He tugged at her arm as he slid off his stool, taking her with him. "Found it this morning while I was wandering around Archangel's old base." He led her down the stairs where the old recruitment base had been, nodding at the Blue Suns guard as they passed. "It's still in good condition, if you excuse the scorch marks on the shoulders."

"What's in good condition?" Shepard wanted to know, still being led further down into the dim series of tunnels. Zaeed didn't respond until they'd arrived at an underground apartment, whose door opened for the bounty hunter as though he'd always owned the place. Shepard slowed her steps to look about the apartment while Zaeed disappeared into an adjoining room. She heard the distinct clanking of armor being gathered, starting when Zaeed reappeared with a mass of blue and white metal plating in his arms. He presented this to her, standing back to cross his arms confidently as Shepard spread it out on a nearby table.

The segmented torso armor of a Blue Suns female mercenary fanned out amid the jumbled bits of arm. leg, and shoulder sections. Shepard regarded this "gift" with some skepticism. "You said you found this in the complex Garrus was in?"

"That's right."

"Tarak only had one female merc with him," Shepard remarked, her tone suggesting she'd figured out the mystery armor's source. "Tell me you didn't strip her corpse, Massani. That's just wrong."

Zaeed grinned a bit maliciously, then gave a careless shrug. "She was your size and it works for what we need now. Here. The helmet." He tossed it towards her. Shepard caught it and flipped it face-forward, a faint smile on her lips.

"You've got a quad, Massani," Shepard said with a low whistle. "I suppose I shouldn't argue a dead woman's armor. What's one more dead woman using it to her now?"

"That's the spirit."

Shepard smiled up at him. "So, what's the plan?"

"Should let you know there's two things I need to do while we're out there," Zaeed said, his tone more serious now as he walked over to her. "One is to save my mates from the assassin."

"And the second?"

Shepard felt the air around them grow cold when Zaeed's good eye met hers with such hatred within it, she shivered in spite of herself.

"I've found those six sons of bitches who held me down when Vido shot me," he told her coldly. "They're all a heat sink away from burning like he did."

Shepard nodded. "I won't begrudge you your revenge, Zaeed. I won't even be part of it." To emphasize her statement, she slipped the Blue Suns helmet over her head and down her face. Her voice was hollow when she spoke again. "To them, I'm just another merc. They'll never see me coming."

"That's my girl," Zaeed grinned, hooking his arm about her waist and pulling her close. Shepard flipped the faceplate up to accept the hard kiss Zaeed pressed to her lips. Zaeed hoisted Shepard into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, their lips still joined in a passionate, possessive kiss.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Shepard awoke to the sounds of Zaeed moving about the apartment. Cracking one eye open, she spied him passing between the living room and the bedroom corridor. His armor was missing, leaving him clad only in the black bodysuit he usually wore beneath it. Shepard sat up in bed, watching him. It was strange, seeing him without the assembled red and white armor on. Seeing him nude was a given, yet observing him sans armor made him seem strangely _more_ naked. If she were to use a clever metaphor, Zaeed without armor was like saying he was vulnerable. Shepard snorted slightly and shook her head. That man was anything _but_.

Shepard slid from beneath the rumpled sheets and stepped into the hall. Zaeed was now attaching the segmented chest plates, his single gauntlet propped up in a nearby chair. "Morning, Massani," Shepard greeted quietly, smiling when he turned sharply towards her in surprise. "Or is it afternoon? You sure knocked me out last night, bounty hunter."

"Well worth it, too," Zaeed replied with a snake grin, sliding his arm into the gauntlet and securing it. He nodded towards her naked body. "I know you're a tough bitch, Shepard, but I don't think you'll be able to stop bullets like that."

"You might be turning me on to a lot of things, Massani, but exhibitionism isn't one of them," Shepard remarked with a wry smile. He chuckled pleasantly. "I seem to recall you mentioning something about us taking separate shuttles off Omega?"

Zaeed nodded, sitting to strap his leg armor on. "I figured it'd work out best if we did. You can go deliver some messages for me to the bastards who held me down twenty years ago."

"What kind of messages?"

"The killing kind," Zaeed's tone was cold. "Wipe them out, all of them."

"Even the bosses? Or shall I round them up for you to pick off one at a time?" Shepard offered with only partial seriousness.

"I'm willing to bet they'll cut out early once you start shooting, probably go to the larger bases. After their platoons are dead, they won't have a choice but to return to the fold. That means the old guard."

"And you'll be there waiting for them, I'm guessing?"

"Exactly." Zaeed snapped the final piece of armor into place, then stood to start loading up his weapons. "I'm sure you could do with a little action after all this quiet."

Shepard laughed shortly and crossed the room to sit near him. "Oh yeah, 'cause the Collector base was a walk in the park!"

"You've handled harder tasks, Shepard," Zaeed remarked without sarcasm. Shepard didn't respond, knowing his words to be true. "I don't envy what you've had to do in the name of the mission. Hell, I can do anything I want, provided I stay alive. You? You're different. Still have the conscience hanging around, I hope?" Zaeed nudged her cheek with his knuckle gently. Shepard smirked a bit, then nodded slowly.

"Killing mercs, I can do," she told him, a dim memory of saying something similar rising as she spoke. "And apparently, killing innocents isn't as hard as I thought it would be..."

"Don't," Zaeed surprised Shepard by kneeling down in front of her and taking her hands in his. She stared at him, dumbfounded by the display. "It's too late for this old son of a bitch, but it's not for you. Don't start thinking killing is easy, you hear?"

"You're a helluva contradiction, Massani," Shepard remarked. "Why fight so hard to make sure I keep my conscience?"

"You should know better, that's why," Zaeed replied firmly and rose to continue arming himself. "Heartless killers don't save ungrateful politicians or let dead monsters live again. I've made my peace with my ways. They work for me. Come with me if you want, Shepard, but don't become me."

"Seems easier to be ruthless," Shepard said softly, lowering her gaze to the floor.

"If you want to be known as ruthless, use that," Zaeed pointed to the pile of blue and white armor still on the table. "Commander Shepard isn't ruthless, but _she_ could be."

Shepard stood and went to the armor, lifting the chestplate from the pile and looking at it intently. The battered metal was pockmocked with bullet scars and blast smudges, yet the white Blue Suns symbol shone bright as new. She thought for a moment of Garrus, how he must've felt to turn vigilante and assume a false identity. Did he take advantage of his hidden face to do what he had to? Did it somehow soften what he'd been doing? She wished she had the time to ask him. But no, she'd have to discover her own catharsis. With luck, remaining hidden behind the beaten helmet would help with that.

Turning back to the fully-armed Zaeed, Shepard offered him a determined gaze. "All right. Let's do this."

*********

Shepard ducked behind a row of crates, careful not to be seen by the volus traders to whom the ship belonged. Zaeed had told her this particular vessel was to be ambushed by the faction controlled by the first traitor, a man named Krelyar. Once the Suns boarded, she was to sneak onto their freighter and stow herself away again until the time was right to spring the trap.

Krelyar's faction consisted primarily of batarians and turians despite the man himself being human. According to his records, Krelyar had been among the first to side with Vido on the hiring of batarians into the ranks, insisting they would be most beneficial to their business. Clearly, the man had never encountered the worst of that particular species. Shepard bet his opinion would've been vastly different otherwise.

It took about twenty minutes for the volus to complete their preparations, then the ship shuddered as it left port, knocking Shepard about slightly among the crates. She righted herself as the ship passed through Omega's mass effect field and settled down to wait.

About two hours in, Shepard sat fiddling with the sidearm Zaeed had given her. It was the twin to his pistol, one of the best in illegal armaments. The fact it had belonged to him offered her a kind of strength. Two years ago, she never would've imagined herself sneaking aboard a trading vessel on the way to killing a band of mercs without a squad at her back. As an Alliance soldier, doing solo missions had been almost unheard of. Even as a Spectre she'd been able to keep at least two other people with her. Now, she was on her own and left completely to her own devices. Most would've found a kind of freedom in it; Shepard, however, found only apprehension and a serious drop in self-confidence.

She clutched the pistol tightly, as if doing so would wring the very essence of Zaeed's smooth confidence from its metallic frame into her hands. She knew it was a foolish thing to do, but in light of everything that had happened to her in the past month or so, she'd take any ounce of assurance she could get, even from inanimate objects. Still, very unlike the Commander Shepard that had led many impossible missions and had defeated Saren. Dying changed a person, isn't that what she'd always told the others? Told herself?

She shook her head quickly as if to clear it. Now wasn't the time for self-evaluation. There was a job to be done and she was the only one available to do it. Gripping the pistol again, Shepard pressed its barrel to her forehead and closed her eyes. She couldn't remember ever praying before a mission, but it seemed appropiate in this case. She recalled Ashley's talk of her faith and smiled grimly. She'd all but mocked the gunnery chief then. These days the line between mortality and spirituality seemed to blur.

The ship rocked gently, suddenly, drawing Shepard's thoughts to the here and now. The fuel depot had been reached. It wouldn't be long now before the place was crawling in Blue Suns. Fetching her helmet, Shepard took a final deep breath, nodded once firmly, then drew it down over her head and face. Her vision glared blue and the familiar hollow sound between her ears filled the tiny spaces of the helmet's interior.

The thunder of multiple pairs of boots shook the ship's floor, followed by the cries of the traders as they were mowed down by the invading mercs. Shepard slapped the side of her pistol briskly, ejecting the first heatsink, tensed her muscles and sped out of the cargo hold, breathing hard.

It was time.

**********

"What a haul!" Lieutenant Jarrak exclaimed, pulling a massive rifle from the nearest crate. His fellow mercs were busying themselves rooting through the other crates, their hands gripping multiple firearms and other upgrades and whistling over their good fortune as well.

Captain Krelyar walked among his troops, grinning like a cat who'd eaten the canary. He nodded towards the cluster of batarians who held up various weapons, shaking them excitedly as though they'd found gold instead of firearms. Attacking this volus ship had been the right idea, Krelyar congratulated himself. It was rare that the volus would have such gems on board their vessels; typically it was medical supplies and food shipments to their various colonies. Tracking this one had been simple, however. Their contact on Illium had informed them of the shipment the second it had docked at Nos Astra. After that, staking out the nearest fuel depot at enabled them to ambush the volus successfully.

Krelyar accepted the manifest Jarrak handed him, pausing to look it over with the grin still plastered to his face. "The boss is going to love these!" Jarrak grinned. "I knew this would be a good job to take!"

"Sure did, sure did," Krelay complimented, patting Jarrak on the shoulder. "Let's get out of here before someone else shows up and thinks to salvage the ship."

"Yes, sir!" Jarrak nodded, beckoned to a handful of other mercs, and hurried out of the hold, heading for the airlock of their own freighter. Krelyar continued to walk through the cargo hold, pausing to admire this and that as he peered into crate after crate. He stopped to perch on one, eyes still scanning the manifest patiently.

Satsified, Krelyar started for the extendable docking hangar from his own freighter to the volus ship. He'd just reached the airlock when the sharp zing of a pistol shot sounded just beyond the sealed door. Dropping the manfiest, Krelyar drew his rifle from its rear port and popped it open. The shots continued to ring out as he passed through the airlock and jumped into his ship. The sight that greeted him caused his jaw to drop open and his rifle to lower slightly.

Bodies scattered about the bridge between the airlock and cargo bay, lying in massive pools of blood and discarded heat sinks. Krelyar stepped between them carefully, rifle trained ahead of him in case of ambush. He cursed silently as more and more bodies of dead mercs littered his progress to the upper levels of the freighter.

Suddenly, a screaming turian tumbled from a catwalk almost directly onto Krelyar. He cursed more audiably this time and dove out of the way. A follow-up shot silenced the hemorrhaging merc, catching him square between the eyes and shattering his armored brow. Krelyar knelt beside the fallen merc to inspect the damage. Multiple shots had eaten away at his kinetic barriers, eventually pockmarking the armor itself with holes. Whoever was doing this was a remarkably good marksman; and all of this apparently with just a pistol!

Krelyar left the turian and started up the steel stairs leading to the catwalks. He had to be close to the mystery assailant now. When he found them he'd be sure to return the favor with a hail of shot at point-blank range. Their head would erupt like a melon. The image firmly lodged in his mind, Krelyar quickened his pace.

The trail of blood and bodies thinned out as he neared the cockpit. He dimly heard Jarrak's terrified voice ahead of him, apparently begging for his life. Krelyar smirked as he pressed up against the wall beside the cockpit. True enough, the batarian was on his knees before an armored figure, the pistol trained on his upper set of eyes. Krelyar leaned out of cover long enough to see the assailant was none other than a female Blue Suns mercenary!

"Please, I'll do anything you want, just...just don't kill me!" Jarrak begged, his gun at his side and his hands raised in surrender. The female merc replied by ejecting a single heat sink, causing the batarian to close his four eyes tightly in fear. Jarrak opened his lower set of eyes carefully, then looked up into the concealed face of the woman. "We just got some really good cargo. Take it! Just let me go!"

Another sink hit the floor; Jarrak's whimpers rose in pitch. Why was she just emptying her clips without firing? Krelyar wondered. And why not just gun Jarrak down like the rest? Something wasn't right here.

"Please. Please, don't --" Jarrak's voice was cut off by Krelyar's rifle letting loose a blast above the woman's head. She jerked her head towards him, pistol swinging up and away from Jarrak's face to point at the human captain.

"Back away from the batarian, woman! Now!" Krelyar ordered coldly, stepping into the cockpit with his rifle leveled at her. "You've got five seconds to tell me what the fuck you're doing here and why you're killing my men. Five. Four. Three. Two. One--"

His words were silenced by the tearing sensation of his shoulder being impaled. He hadn't seen the woman cross the small space between them, nor had he noticed the dagger that was now pinning his shoulder to the bulkhead leave her hand. Jarrak squealed in terror and passed out completely. Krelyar snarled at the female merc visciously, gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder.

Through the blue of her eyeholes, Krelyar could see hatred burning in her gaze. She drew very close to him, head tilted as if deciding what to do with him. Whoever she was, she wasn't part of his squad. He'd remember someone with this level of skill.

She raised her pistol close to his face, absently tapping it against his cheek. An intimidation tactic? He scowled. "Kill me or don't, bitch, you won't get away with this," he assured her icily. "You can't intimidate me. I've been with the Suns for years."

"I know," she said suddenly, her voice flat and cold behind her helmet. "But not for much longer."

"The hell are you talking about?" Krelyar demanded, pulling against the dagger's grip on the wall. "You think you can take down all of us with that peashooter of yours!? You're insane!"

"As much as I'd like to shoot you in the face here and now, Krelyar, it's not for me to decide your fate," she informed him smoothly, withdrawing her pistol and stepping away from him. "I'm just the messenger."

"For who? Blood Pack? Do those krogan sons of bitches think they can take us on?!"

"Do I look like Blood Pack to you, Krelyar?" she gestured to her bloodied Suns armor. "He never said you were an idiot."

"Who?! Tell me who you're working for, dammit!" Krelyar strained to escape again. She shook her head.

"You'll find out soon enough, Krelyar," she assured him. "Until then." She leveled her gun at Jarrak's unconscious form and fired a single shot above his four eyes. He shuddered briefly, then went limp. "You'll be the one to tell the others about this."

"You're letting me live? How stupid are you?" Krelyar's tone was mocking. She gave a small laugh, then shrugged loosely.

"I'm not the stupid one here, Krelyar, trust me. Here, we'll make this simple." She approached him again, pulling out a smaller knife from her gauntlet. She held it up for him to see before beginning to carve a rather lengthly message across his cheek. He howled in pain as she scratched out the words slowly with the knife point. Blood streamed down from the razor-thin wounds, gathering in his open mouth and partially choking him. He sputtered between each labored breath, his vision beginning to blur from the pain.

Finally, she finished and moved away again, slipping the blade back up her sleeve as she did so. Turning to the helm, she activated the distress beacon, nodded in Krelyar's direction as though they'd just shared a pleasant chat, and strolled out of the cockpit.

Krelyar, blood now caking on his skin, focused his gaze on the blinking distress call on the terminal, mind racing to remember every single detail about the merc's voice and stature. Whoever she was, she wouldn't be alive for long. He'd make sure of that.

Hours later, Krelyar, now half-unconscious from the trauma and blood loss, heard the distant cries of other Suns mercs as they bombarded the bridge. The heavily-scarred face of one of the oldest commanding officers, Malachi, peered into Krelyar's closely.

"'He's Coming'? Who the hell is he?" he demanded gruffly. Krelyar attempted to respond, but his voice had grown hoarse from screaming. Malachi jerked the dagger from the younger merc's shoulder, catching Krelyar as he tumbled from the wall. He passed the man over to a pair of Suns in his squad, then crouched to inspect the remains of Jarrak.

Despite not being the biggest fan of batarians, no one deserved this kind of death. Malachi's lips tightened in a grim line as he slid the eyes of Jarrak closed with his fingertips. He sat back on his heels thoughtfully, mind wandering back to the message cruelly carved into Krelyar's face.

_He's Coming._


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Shepard, bent over in an alleyway on a neighboring spaceport, heaved violently for the second time. It hadn't been with any great enthusiasm that she'd carved the message onto Krelyar's face. Once she'd removed the helmet, guilt had washed over her and she'd doubled over to vomit.

Even in the Blitz, she hadn't systematically decimated an entire platoon of men; butchering someone was also completely new. She wasn't even sure what had driven her to do something so rash. The smaller knife had appeared in her hand almost of its own volition. It had been someone else's hand that had done that to him, she was sure of it. At least, that's what she was telling herself. A poor coping mechanism, but it was all she had at the moment.

The wretching subsided long enough for Shepard to flop into a sitting position and lean against the dingy wall. Sweat poured down her forehead, blinding her briefly. She rubbed her eyes free of the stinging fluid and took a deep, shuddering breath. She'd have to check in with Zaeed before long even though all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep for a week. Though, somehow she knew her dreams would be red with the blood she'd spilled. Her armor was coated crimson, blotting out the white of the Blue Suns emblem almost completely. Shepard absently swept a hand across the breastplate, her stomach rolling in protest at the sight of the bright red liquid caking her glove. She'd have to wash it off before going to the next step. Thankfully, the next mission would be a few days' coming. Zaeed still had to track Krelyar's movements to reach his old guard friends. It would give Shepard time to collect her thoughts and willpower to keep going with the plan.

Using the wall for support, Shepard stumbled out of the alleyway, thankful for the lack of interest from the passersby as she headed towards the nearest lodge. From there she'd be able to shower and contact Zaeed, let him know what had happened. She wondered if he'd approve of her delivery? She suspected it was subtle in comparison to some of the things he'd done. He probably would've stripped Kreylar of his chest armor and carved an even bigger message there. The thought made her stomach revolt again, forcing her to clap her hand over her mouth before whatever was left had the chance to escape.

Rest. That's what she needed. A good long sleep. Bolstered by the idea, Shepard continued down the sidewalk with a little more speed.

********

Zaeed paced the floor of the port he and his Suns had stopped on to refuel and buy supplies for the upcoming battle. He kept listening for the telltale crackle of static that sounded before Shepard contacted him on their private channel. It had already been a full day; surely she'd managed to deliver the message and get away before reinforcements had arrived.

He clutched his pistol in its holster, the action unconscious, as he passed back and forth over the steel flooring. Sending Shepard out to kill all of those men had sat ill with him ever since she'd left Omega. It wasn't that he believed she wouldn't be able to do it. Far from it. He just knew how mentally and emotionally scarring such an act could be, especially for a novice. Battling obvious baddies was one thing: willingly going through a ship full of unsuspecting mercs with the express purpose of killing them all was another.

Despite her resolve to end the lives of the Cerberus crew, Zaeed knew Shepard wrestled with the guilt everyday. Her constant parroting of "for the greater good" would only sustain her for so long. Eventually, something would snap even more than it already had. When that happened, if it happened, no one, not even him, would be able to pull her back. The idea of her being lost to such a thing angered him greatly, teasing him with his own impotence at being able to prevent it.

Zaeed was far from a savior. He hadn't killed and maimed his way to the top of the bounty hunter food chain by being nice to his enemies. His reputation had been well-earned over years of endless jobs. After awhile, though, even he had stopped. Cerberus had caught him just before he'd completely dropped off the grid and had offered him the opportunity to exact his revenge on Vido. How could he have refused? The credits were certainly nice, too.

He hadn't expected to get close to anyone on the Normandy. In truth, he hadn't, with the exception of Shepard herself. He hadn't even pursued her company, preferring to remain alone down in starboard cargo reminiscing and waiting for the day they'd arrived on Zorya. Still, it didn't stop the young commander from insisting on his presence during every mission since his recruitment. She'd recognized his skills and was prepared to exploit them to their fullest extent. Well, he'd decided to let her, maybe she'd learn something. Instead, it had been him who'd learned something. Even with all of the bad deeds he'd done under his belt, the fact someone could still stir that hidden part of him to the surface had made it difficult to ignore her attempts.

That time on the so-called defunct Collector ship had been the real starting point of things happening between them. She'd stupidly run into the thick of things, nearly getting her head blown to pieces by Harbinger's drones in the process, before he'd snatched her and had thrown her into cover with him. They'd had a good row about that one. He remembered her screaming at him down in the cargo hold after the mission, insisting he recognize her command and not interfere with her battlefield tactics. Tactics?! he'd countered hotly. What tactics? The accusation had caused an even greater explosion of wounded pride from the commander, resulting in her threatening to space him and then leaving the hold, still very much in a tizzy.

It hadn't been until days later that she'd calmed down enough to come and request his presence on another mission. That one had brought them to Omega to track down Samara's crazy bitch of a daughter. He remembered arguing with the justicar outside of the VIP room, claiming the asari was sending Shepard in blindly. While Samara had retaliated with complete composure, insisting Shepard knew what was expected of her, Zaeed had refused to let it drop. Instead, he'd strong-armed the turian at the door into letting him in. Despite the lack of a proper uniform, simply exposing his Blue Suns tattoo had earned him admittance. He'd spent the remainder of the mission at the bar, good eye trained on Shepard as she moved about the lounge drawing attention to herself.

Even though watching Shepard walk off with Morinth hadn't spurned any kind of jealousy in his chest, he'd still had to fight the urge to follow. He'd reasoned later that it had been his contract that had caused such a reaction and not because he'd begun to feel anything towards the young commander. He knew too well the dangers of getting close to a job; becoming involved with them was much, much worse.

That still hadn't stopped him from going to her cabin before they chanced the Omega-4 Relay.

The gentle static he'd been anticipating crackled in his ear, breaking into his memories, and his hand flew up to the tiny earpiece. "Shepard?" he asked, perhaps a little too anxiously.

"You sound worried, Massani," Shepard replied, a smug smile in her voice. "I'm in one piece, don't worry. Can't say the same for Krelyar, though."

Zaeed gave a grunt of laughter. "Why, what'd you do?"

"You'll see, I'm sure. I don't think you'll be disappointed," here her tone changed from smug to weary. Zaeed paused in his pacing, listening for her next words intently. When she didn't speak again, he broke the silence.

"I'll let you know when I've taken care of him," he told her. "You sit tight till then, all right?"

"No arguments here, Massani," Shepard's voice continued to sound dispirited. No doubt she was exhausted. Eliminating that many people in such a short time did nothing for a person's energy levels. "Where are you?"

"Rosetta Nebula," Zaeed replied, backing up slightly to perch on the edge of a storage crate. "A small independent faction was sighted here; looking to get them to join us."

"No sign of your assassin, I take it?"

"No one to kill," Zaeed's voice was bitter. "I admit I'm hoping it was a fluke and I won't have to deal with him again. Shame I'm usually wrong when it comes to assassins."

"This guy must be pretty good to have avoided getting shot by so many mercs," Shepard mused thoughtfully. "And you, for that matter."

"Bastard shot me in the thigh, remember? You ever try aiming after being shot? Not the easiest thing."

"Granted." Shepard yawned slightly, her voice distancing itself from the commlink as she did so. "I hope you get those Suns there on your side. Krelyar had a helluva squad with him; can only imagine what he'll have waiting for you."

"I have my own squad with me, Shepard," Zaeed reminded her. "You only have yourself."

"Got that right..."

Zaeed fell silent for a moment, listening for the meaning between the lines in Shepard's words. "I'll be able to get you after Krelyar is dead. I'd like it if we could regroup after each death if possible."

"Again, no arguments here, Massani," Shepard said. He heard her sigh deeply, then she spoke again. "I really need some sleep. You could've told me mass murder was exhausting work, you know." Her tone held only the barest hint of humor, not that Zaeed could blame her for a lack of cheerfulness. He wanted to tell her she'd get used to it, but as he'd told her on Omega, he didn't want her turning into something she wasn't. Still, how would she be after five more missions like this one?

"Take it easy, Shepard. My scout just returned; seems like we might have the help of the Suns here after all," Zaeed told her as the turian he'd sent to handle negotiations appeared in the doorway. He gestured towards him, bading him to wait until he was finished, and turned away to speak softly into the commlink. "Remember what I told you on Omega. Don't get swallowed up by this."

"You worry too much, Massani," Shepard deflected, though her voice was softer and less weary. "Don't get killed."

"You, too, Shepard."

The link severed, leaving empty silence in its wake. Zaeed looked back at the turian and nodded him over. Back to business.

**********

Krelyar hadn't wasted any time; barely two days after the incident, Zaeed's sources revealed the location of Krelyar and of Malachi, another of the original handful of recruits from the old days.

Malachi had been tough as nails back then. He'd killed his own fair share of people and then some. He wouldn't go down easily even if that damned assassin decided to show up. A towering mountain of muscle and thick scars, Malachi had been known to take multiple gunshots and knife wounds before allowing himself to rest and recover. That assassin had better be prepared to handle someone like Malachi or else he'd be the one with the bullet through his brain.

Knowing his next move would take him to one of the best the Suns could offer, Zaeed hurried his men to Malachi's base on Joab. Zaeed recalled a mission that had taken him and Shepard planetside to handle a different faction of Blue Suns; apparently Malachi hadn't been keen on letting that particular base go. The equipment and relics found there had been too valuable to sacrifice to raiders. Malachi always did have an eye for unique items.

Once their shuttle touched down on Joab, Zaeed ordered his men to remain behind while he pushed ahead to scout for the base. Once inside, he'd be able to get to Malachi and begin phase two of the reclamation. Malachi had respected Zaeed immensely, as had most of the old guard, and would undoubtedly relinquish his squad to the greater good. Battling Reapers would definitely appeal to the other man, especially if rare tech was to be extracted from their corpses.

Zaeed wasn't concerned with Krelyar's presence on Joab. As far as Zaeed could remember, Malachi ahd been unaware of the betrayal wrought by Vido. For all Malachi knew, Vido had told them Zaeed had died during a job. As unbelievable as that would've been, they still would've deferred to Vido's words, especially with his being the surviving founder. Whatever the reasons give, Zaeed was sure Malachi would be both surprised and pleased to see him.

The area surrounding the base was still littered with fallen rocks and small natural walls. As he passed one of the walls, Zaeed passed a hand over it carelessly, remembering vividly the crouched figure of Shepard pressed against it. It seemed after the Collector ship, she'd finally realized taking cover and staying alive was well worth the effort. He hoped it would stick with her, especially now.

A turian sentry was posted at the base entrance, pacing back and forth lazily, his rifle cradled almost casually in his arms. He came to attention when Zaeed approached, swinging the gun up towards him and snapping at him to stay where he was.

"I'm looking for General Malachi, boy," Zaeed informed the young turian coolly. The turian didn't seem convinced, his rifle still in front of him as he inched down the bridge towards Zaeed.

"How do you know the general?" he demanded, jerking the rifle at the other man insistantly. "What the hell do you want?"

"That's between me and Malachi," Zaeed replied. "Just get him, boy, and you won't have to die here." He hovered his hand above his pistol, fingers flexing as if to grab it. Even with the turian's weapon already drawn, Zaeed's reflexes would undoubtedly be swifter. The young merc would fall before he could even eject a single heat sink. This seemed to register with the turian, who lowered his rifle and spoke into his earpiece.

"Yeah, there's someone here claiming to know the general. No, I don't know who is; never seen him before in my life!" the turian looked back at Zaeed. "The general wants to know your name."

"Massani. Zaeed Massani," Zaeed replied, a snake's smile curling his scarred lips. The turian seemed to pale at that; clearly he'd heard of Zaeed's bounty hunter exploits. He hastily relayed this to whoever was on the other end of his commlink.

"Stay out here. The general is coming out," he told Zaeed with more respect than before. Zaeed shrugged and leaned casually against the guardrail to wait.

The thumping footsteps of Malachi pounded out of the base, the larger man's arms spread open wide as he thundered towards Zaeed. Zaeed grinned broadly at his old friend, accepting the rough embrace Malachi enveloped him in, both men slapping each other's backs genially. They parted, bearing twin grins, with Malachi looking Zaeed up and down in absolute surprise.

"You crazy son of a bitch," Malachi began, gesturing with both hands at his old friend, "Vido said you died on a job! I shoulda known he was talking out of his ass. When I'd heard about a bounty hunter with your name, I thought it was just another Massani, but no! It really was you, wasn't it, you nutty bastard?" Malachi whistled low, looking into Zaeed's face now. "You look like shit, brother! What happened to your face?"

"That's a long story, Malachi," Zaeed replied, thumping his taller friend on the shoulder. "Why don't we go in and I'll tell you everything."

The two men entered the base, the turian sentry saluting them both as they passed. Zaeed didn't bother suppressing the wide grin that split his face. Seeing Malachi alive meant that damned assassin hadn't found him. If they were lucky, he never would.

**********

Many hours, and whiskey bottles, later, the two men were well in their cups, falling over each other as they recalled old jobs and caught up. Malachi didn't seem surprised to hear of Vido's death, let alone at Zaeed's hands; if anything, he seemed to have expected it. Zaeed hadn't gotten the chance to tell him the real reason behind Vido's murder as they'd become too absorbed in reminiscing before he could explain. Then the whiskey kept flowing and he'd steadily forgotten to bring it up, happy to enjoy the company of one of the few trusted people he could call a friend.

"Sure is good to see you alive, Massani," Malachi managed through a rather deep belch. "Never thought I'd see you again, though. What've you been doing?"

"Trying to save the galaxy," Zaeed slurred, lifting his glass to his lips awkwardly and downing it. Malachi choked on his own drink.

"I can't believe that, Massani! Certainly not from you!" he laughed, pouring another sloppy helping into Zaeed's empty glass. Zaeed waved a limp hand dismissively.

"I was contracted to help this bitch save the human race or somesuch," he replied. "Even in the boonies back here, even you know of Commander Shepard."

"That first human Spectre? Didn't she die?"

"Did, yeah," Zaeed nodded, his head a bit wobbly on his neck. "Got better." He snickered drunkenly.

"Like you did?" Malachi grinned.

"Damn right."

Malachi shook his head and leaned back in his chair to exhale deeply. "So. Who tried to blow your face off?"

"Vido," Zaeed replied, some menace entering his voice despite his inebriated state. "Son of a bitch thought he could take the Suns from me...paid some of my men to hold me down while he fired a shot in my face. Left me for dead on some shithole planet. Too bad for him I didn't mind sewing my face together with barbed wire." He jerked his thumb at his scars, grinning maliciously.

"I knew that guy was crooked, but I never thought he'd try something so fucking stupid," Malachi shook his head again. "Why come out now? Why did you disappear for twenty years if you knew Vido tried to kill you?"

"I had to let him think I was dead, Malachi," Zaeed insisted, fighting to keep his eye focused on his friend's face. "Slippery bastard kept escaping me, too." He chuckled darkly. "My last job let me get to him without his knowledge. I owe Shepard a lot for that."

"You going soft on me, Zaeed?" Malachi teased with a wicked smile.

"I'll pass out first, you ugly bastard," Zaeed insisted with another short laugh.

"Sure looks like you're ready to."

Zaeed didn't respond, his mind finally beginning to succumb to the urge to black out. He grunted slightly and ran a hand down his face. He rose unsteadily from the table and started for the bunkers. "Gon' sleep this off," he said over his shoulder. "Talk more later."

Malachi watched Zaeed make it to the stairs before his knees gave way and he crumpled to the ground in a dead faint. Malachi chuckled and signaled two of his men to carry the unconscious bounty hunter into the bunker. He saluted Zaeed loosely as he was carried off.

"Sleep well, old friend."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The following morning arrived with a raging hangover and a feeling of displacement. Zaeed rolled out of the bunk he'd been deposited in the night before, one hand to his forehead and his eyes squeezed shut. It took him a minute to realize he wasn't on Omega anymore. Once recollection returned, he stumbled out of the barracks into the mess. He eased himself into one of the empty chairs with a smothered groan and activated his omnitool. A quick dispense of medi-gel and the headache began to ease up.

Clarity returning, Zaeed glanced about the empty mess hall. He'd been too absorbed in catching up with Malachi to remember his second reason for being on Joab: the matter of Krelyar was still waiting to be handled. Zaeed was fairly certain the younger captain knew about his presence on the base; hopefully, Malachi will have forbidden him from running off on another mission so soon after the ambush. For all of his brutish qualities, Malachi had a mother hen demeanor when it came to the men under his command. He would want Krelyar to take a break.

Zaeed had considered sharing the truth with Malachi, believing his friend deserved that much. However, he couldn't have the other man interfering with his plans, either. He'd have time to explain his actions after Krelyar was dead. Once that was done, it would be pointless to expand on the issue further. Malachi would probably wish he'd been the one to do it, once he knew the reason. Having a traitor in the ranks never did sit well with any of the old guard.

Figuring there was no time like the present, Zaeed stood and left the mess hall. His quarry would either still be asleep or up and about alone. Either way suited him just fine. As he walked, Zaeed withdrew his pistol from its holster casually and checked the clips with an equal air of nonchalance. Any of the Suns he passed nodded towards him, but otherwise let him move about the base freely. Not many had been informed of his true identity or connection to the Suns; that would be taken care of once Krelyar was dead. Malachi would have to announce his full backing of Zaeed's right to leadership before they could move on to find the rest of the old guard and continue the reclamation. Shepard would also have be retrieved for further instruction. If they were lucky, having Malachi at their backs would allow for Shepard's constant presence with them. Zaeed didn't like sending her out on these killing missions; having her with him was a far more agreeable solution.

As he passed one of the armories, Zaeed's ears perked up to the sound of Krelyar's voice speaking to a few other Suns. He paused in the doorway to the armory in question, leaning against its frame carelessly. He watched with steadily-mounting hatred for the captain, but held it in until they were alone.

The few mercs with Krelyar finished their business with him and departed, nodding at Zaeed as they passed. Finally where he wanted his prey to be, Zaeed stepped further inside, the door sliding closed at his back. The telltale click of his pistol unfolding drew Krelyar's attention from the weapons table he'd been observing.

"Don't even think about it," Zaeed warned when he saw Krelyar's hand inch towards a rifle. He approached the captain slowly, pistol ahead of him, head cocked as if amused. Krelyar watched him warily, hands now lifted to shoulder level as if in surrender.

"You should be dead, Massani," Krelyar said coldly, eyes following the other as Zaeed began to circle him. "There's no way you could've survived that shot. I was there. I remember getting hit with your blood, old man."

"Bully for you, boy," Zaeed replied, his voice dangerously soft. "You forget that Vido was a pisspoor shot. It took six of you sons of bitches to hold me down; didn't that tell you something about me?"

"Only that you were fucking insane and had to be put down," Krelyar declared. "You'd sent me on far too many dangerous missions, Massani. Commander Santiago was looking for a more respectable way for the Suns to make a name for themselves in the galaxy. You? Nothing but muscle and stupidity. You solved every problem with your fists or your guns. Santiago had finesse. The Blue Suns needed his leadership."

"Horseshit," Zaeed retorted, closing the distance between them in an eyeblink and pressing the muzzle of his pistol to Krelyar's cheek. "You were just a welp then, hardly out of your first suit. What did you know of leadership?"

"More than you!" Krelyar dared to take a step forward. Zaeed was quick to shove the younger man back against the table, pistol now firmly pushed into the other's face.

"Last I heard you got your entire squad killed," Zaeed purred, malice lighting his good eye and causing the other man to shudder. "How is that an example of leadership?"

Krelyar stared dumbly at Zaeed, then his eyes widened as realization struck. "She was with you! That woman in the Suns uniform!"

"What gives you that idea, boy?"

"She's just like you: killing without a second thought. She let me live on your orders, didn't she? You wanted to get me yourself." Krelyar gave a short, mocking laugh. "What kind of a leader sends his bitch after his enemies? A weak one, that's who!"

"If you knew who she really was, you'd be shitting your pants right now," Zaeed promised him coolly, refusing to rise to the bait. "But you'll never know, will you?" He grinned, the malice in his gaze having reached his lips. Krelyar heard the click of the pistol being cocked and glared hard at Zaeed.

"Go to hell, Massani," he snarled.

"You first."

Zaeed squeezed the trigger, firing pointblank directly into Krelyar's brain. The top of his head exploded into a pulpy mass, sending a brilliant spray of bright red blood against the extra guns. Krelyar's body shuddered violently, then collapsed to the floor. Zaeed holstered his pistol, spat on the twitching body once, and left the armory.

He moved through the base calmly, as though he killed traitors before breakfast every day. He punched in the frequency for the link he shared with Shepard. "Shepard? Are you there?"

A crackle, then her voice. "What is it, Massani?" She sounded tired. Wherever she was was apparently functioning on a different timezone than Joab. Zaeed smiled slightly at the mental image of the commander rising from a tangle of sheets, eyes bleary and half-shut.

"Sorry to wake you, Shepard, but it's time to regroup."

He heard the rustle of fabric as Shepard sat up in bed. "Got Krelyar, then?"

"Dead as a doornail."

"Good. Tired of this port, even after two days. Or is it three? Nevermind." She paused. "Are you on Joab?"

"Figured that out, did you?" Zaeed grinned. Shepard mumbled something incoherant.

"My omnitool is giving me your coordinates. Didn't we get rid of the Suns influence on Joab a few weeks ago?"

"We don't like giving up perfectly good bases, Shepard. If we abandoned ship everytime someone hit us, we'd be out of a job."

"Good point. So, when can I expect to get off this rock?" her voice had begun to perk up; she was becoming more alert and ready to move. Zaeed smiled again.

"I'll have a shuttle heading your way today. Send me your coordinates and I'll get some of my men to escort you back. And Shepard?" he added, smiling at the muffled response she offered, "you did good with that ambush. Krelyar even paid you a compliment before I killed him."

"Did he really?" she deadpanned. "Can't imagine him having anything positive to say after I'd killed his men."

"It was a backhanded compliment," Zaeed informed her. "Said you were like me. Seems I'm rubbing off on you, Shepard."

"No comment, Massani," Shepard replied, a smile in her voice. "Just get me off here."

"Maybe later," Zaeed quipped suggestively. Shepard made a noise as if to respond, then caught herself and groaned.

"I walked right into that," she laughed. "Minced words aside, I'll see you soon?"

"As soon as I can," he replied. "Promise."

"Good as gold, Massani. Shepard out." The link went dead with a blip, leaving Zaeed smiling to himself.

The smile slid off his features when the distinct echo of a flashbang grenade reached his ears. Turning swiftly to the armory door, Zaeed withdrew his rifle and crossed the room in wide, silent strides. Cautiously, he opened the door and leaned out into the corridor. Brilliant white light was coming from the front of the base; he could hear the cries of the Suns stationed there, calling for backup. A sick feeling settled into Zaeed's belly as he stalked out of the armory in a low crouch. No way did Krelyar anticipate Zaeed's plan to kill him, nor would the captain have been bold enough to attempt to take down Malachi and his men. This first wave was too slick for the likes of the Blood Pack or Eclipse. Only one man came to Zaeed's mind:

The Omega assassin had found Malachi.

Cursing as loudly as he dared, Zaeed hurried his pace, eager to reach the rest of the men before Malachi got a bullet in his skull. Even with the sheer numbers present in the base, Zaeed knew the assassin to be resourceful enough to work his way around that. He'd avoid the many streams of bullets soaring after him and zero in on the target. There would be other casualities, of that Zaeed was sure, but the assassin's real target would definitely be Malachi. Losing Samson had been hard enough; losing Malachi would be even harder.

The sound of gunfire grew louder as Zaeed neared the entrance hall of the base, his anxiety mounting. Then, to his great relief, he spied Malachi amidst ten other men all providing return fire somewhere above them in the cliffs. The assassin would take cover high up; snipers needed the range to do their dirty work. Also, keeping his distance would diminish his own injuries. Well, Zaeed knew his methods and he'd be damned if he'd be able to pick off another of the old guard.

Racing up and away from the rest of the Suns, Zaeed bounded up the ramps leading to the cliffs. Now that he was expecting the assassin, he wouldn't be so careless as to get shot again. No, if anyone was going to be shot today it would be him. He'd have to beat him at his own game, Zaeed thought, and switched out his assault rifle for his sniper rifle. Moving higher up, further away from the base, he found an outcropping that overlooked the valley. Here he stretched out on his belly, extended his rifle and peered through the scope. A few sweeps of the immediate area revealed his quarry perched among discarded crates and a beaten-up old Grizzly.

At this range, Zaeed could clearly make out the sloping ridge of a turian through the armor. The armor itself was the same bright blue he'd caught glimpses of on Omega. It gleamed as though frequently polished and not a scratch was evident on its smooth surface. Briefly, Zaeed wondered why a turian would be targeting Blue Suns' commanders. Most turians sought the Suns out for work, along with those blasted batarians. Still, it didn't mean somewhere along the way a Sun hadn't pissed the wrong person off, turian or otherwise. The assassin's reasons didn't matter. All that mattered was putting him down before he could do any more damage.

Zaeed lined up his shot and fired. The bullet zinged off the turian's armor, knocking the other over into the grass. Satisfied with this warning shot, Zaeed waited for the assassin to rise before taking a second shot. However, to his dismay, the assassin did not rise and instead was relocating to get a better shot at Malachi down below. Zaeed ventured a glance at the frontlines through his scope. Malachi was ducking out of sight and barking orders at his men. Good. Hopefully, the general had caught onto the assassin's plans and would stay out of range until the turian could be taken down.

Time to take the fight to him.

Zaeed collapsed his rifle and locked it back into its port, then scrambled up off the ground. He cleared the space between him and the sniper's original perch in a handful of bold leaps, eventually landing on the highest catwalk leading to the base. His boots thundered against the grated surface of the walk, shaking it violently. Some feet from him, the turian was once again crouched down and scanning the area for Malachi. _Oh no, you don't, you son of a bitch!_ Zaeed thought angrily and advanced on the turian.

The turian whipped his helmeted head around at the sound of Zaeed's charging battle cry and readied himself to deflect the oncoming collision. Zaeed hammered into the side of the larger alien, tackling him to the catwalk. The turian rolled onto his back, Zaeed still on him, wedged his wide feet between them and launched the bounty hunter from him. Zaeed slammed into the railing before momentum forced him over it. He fell to the ground with a grunt, the wind knocking out of him. Dazed, he struggled to catch his breath and stand. Above him, through bleary eyes, he saw the turian assassin rise up, rifle in hand, and take aim. Zaeed groped for his pistol clumsily, still very disoriented.

Managing to wrench it from its holster, Zaeed took shaky aim at the turian and squeezed off a single shot. It struck the ground beside the turian's armored feet, but did little to prevent the inevitable. Zaeed's eyes traveled to the front of the base, a hoarse scream rising to his lips as he saw Malachi coming out of cover, twin SMGs in hand. A brief firefight erupted between Malachi and the turian assassin, ending when the latter managed to complete his mission.

Zaeed's voice found the scream that had been fighting to get out as the bullet claimed his old friend's life, exploding out the back of Malachi's head and sending his body backwards into his men like a collapsed tree. A cluster of mercs rounded on the body of their fallen leader while others still continued to rain fire on the turian above them. Somehow, the assassin evaded the hail of shot, leaping nimbly from the catwalk and speeding away.

Zaeed remained on the grass, his breath coming in short, shuddering gasps that shot pain through his ribs. He could already tell two of them had snapped from the fall. A dozen Suns advanced on him, some kneeling to help him to his feet gingerly. Those still around Malachi were now lifting the larger man onto their shoulders and carrying him into the base. The few with Zaeed half-carried the bounty hunter after them, each careful not to jostle him too much.

Once inside, the mercs lowered Zaeed into a chair. On a nearby table, Malachi's body was lain. His SMGs were immediately crossed over his chest, then covered with his hands. The rage building in Zaeed's chest was hot, encompassing. He hadn't felt this kind of anger since Vido. That damned turian bastard had to be stopped and soon. Simply following the plan would only give the assassin more time to find the others and kill them, too. Right now, the main priority was to ensure the others' safety so the whole damn plan could succeed. Without them, all would be lost.

Zaeed grabbed the wrist of the Sun nearest him, drawing the merc to his side. "I need a shuttle," he rasped through the pain in his chest. The merc nodded quickly. "Go to these coordinates. Find her."

"Her who, sir?" the merc asked, spreading his hands. Zaeed snarled a bit, then calmed himself.

"Female Sun. You'll know her. Bring her back here."

"Of course, sir! I'll get some men right on it!" the merc promised and hurried away. Zaeed slumped in his chair wearily, then activated his omnitool to administer what was left of his medi-gel. The pain his chest subsided enough for him to stand and go to Malachi's body. He stood beside it and placed one hand over Malachi's crossed ones.

"I should've warned you, old friend," Zaeed murmured. "I couldn't warn Samson, but I could've told you. I won't let your death be in vain, Malachi. I'll get that son of a bitch who did this. I swear it."

His resolve returning, Zaeed turned to the assembly of Suns around him. He stared at them hard in turn, then said:

"Time to go to war, gentlemen. This isn't over, not by a long shot."


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Commander Mikael Demine of the Blue Suns quirked one elegant brow at the message flashing on his private terminal. It was from Joab, sent through their command channel. Mikael hadn't heard a peep from Malachi and his men in years; why would he be reaching out now? With a careless shrug, Mikael opened the message and read with marked disinterest.

As he scanned the text, his former nonchalance for the message wavered, turning quickly to wide-eyed alarm. Zaeed? Alive? Assassin, Malachi dead? Mikael leaned back in his chair sharply, his breath leaving him. Further down the message, Zaeed spoke of Samson's death on Omega, also brought about this mysterious turian assassin. He also mentioned an attempted reunion with Job and Ripper, the latter being MIA as usual.

Mikael knew where Job was; at least, he knew of his last transmission's location. The old man was about to enter retirement on Bekenstein and had been seen with the likes of Donovon Hock. The knowledge that it was about to cut short would be of definite interest to him, Mikael decided and pulled up a new document. He used the Suns-transcripted shorthand method of communication, saying as little as possible without losing its meaning. With sweat gathering on his forehead, Mikael sent it out into the extranet and closed his terminal.

Despite being a man of great means and skill, Mikael was no soldier. His platoon consisted of infiltrators, hardly suitable in a close combat situation. He would need further assistance if he was to survive a possible assassination. He paused, recalling something in Zaeed's message. Quickly, he retrieved it and read it again. A bodyguard? A woman? Mikael gave a small grunt of laughter. One woman would provide little protection from the turian who'd killed Samson and Malachi. If Mikael wanted to survive before she arrived, he would have to employ his own hired muscle.

Good thing he already had such muscle on galactic speed dial.

Within hours, Mikael's newest recruit appeared in his office's door. A krogan of considerable size and mass stood on the threshold, bright green eyes barely visible beneath his scarred and pierced brows. He lumbered into the office, shouldering his rifle casually in one hand.

"Name's Skud," the krogan greeted, his voice like gravel beneath a rover's wheels. "You Demine?"

"I am. You may call me Mikael," Mikael rounded his desk and offered a hand to the krogan. Skud ignored it and collapsed his rifle with a casual air. Mikael withdrew his hand with a strained polite smile. "I'll get straight to business, then, since you seem disinterested in formalities. You're here to ensure I continue living. I have an assassin after me, a turian sniper that has already taken out two of my compatriots."

"You're a Blue Suns boss," Skud observed. "Why hire me? Don't you have enough men in your employ already?"

"I do, but I command infiltrators, not soldiers. There is a soldier being sent to me on loan from another faction, but I do not trust her to do the job, not alone."

"And you're thinking that because I'm krogan, I'll be able to kill this turian bastard without getting a scratch?" Skud grinned. "Seems reasonable. I've taken out far more dangerous beasts than one turian sniper. I'll get your ass out of this alive, smoothskin. Don't you worry about that."

"Excellent. Remind me to give a little something extra to your captain when the job is through," Mikael replied with a gracious nod.

"He'll like that," Skud replied. "What now?"

"Now we wait for the other bodyguard. I use the term loosely in this case, of course," Mikael couldn't smother the haughty sniff that escaped him. Skud grunted.

"Best not to underestimate women, Demine. Got one on my squad and she'll blow you to hell and back without breaking a sweat. This one might surprise you."

"That remains to be seen," Mikael dismissed, returning to his chair and sitting down. "Until then, feel free to familiarize yourself with the layout of my station. You have free reign. My men have been ordered to stay out of your way."

"Sounds good." Skud turned and left the office, his heavy footsteps rattling the various pieces of art on the walls. Mikael eyed them anxiously, ready to spring should one take a fall. Working with krogan wasn't something he did often, and he preferred to keep it that way. Fewer things broke, for one thing.

Settling back, Mikael returned to his previous duties, his mind at ease with the krogan around and the prospect of further assistance well on the way.

Skud hovered at the landing dock, eyes heavenward to watch for the expectant shuttle. When it winked further up in the stratosphere, Skud moved out of range of its engines and stood behind a low wall to wait.

The shuttle touched down, its wide side door opening and a slim figure in Blue Suns armor emerged. She glanced at him briefly, determined he was a nonhostile, and approached. Skud closed the gap between them on the landing pad.

"You must be that other one Demine told me about," Skud said by way of greeting. "Name's Skud; Mr. Demine hired me to help you out."

"Did he? Must not trust women," the merc drawled, her tone suggesting she'd expected this. "I was told as much before I left."

"Just prove yourself and I don't think there'll be any problems," Skud assured her. "I don't make the stupid mistake of thinking females can't fight. Some of the toughest jobs I've had have involved taking women down. Hardy bunch, females."

"It's a man's galaxy," she quipped carelessly. Skud chuckled.

"So they say. Got a name, merc girl?"

"Yes, but it's not important right now," she deflected without malice. "I'm just here to make sure Mikael survives, just as you are."

"Fair enough. Come on, he's probably waiting for you." Skud started off, the merc in tow. They moved through the station quietly, passing a number of slender men in light armor carrying sniper rifles and pistols. Skud watched the merc cast a cursory glance their way; he smiled. He could feel her distaste for them through her suit. He couldn't blame her. These lightweights would surely get killed within the first few seconds of heavy combat. Snipers were puny, only safe when up high or behind things. He partially hoped this turian they were watching out for would be a more worthy opponent. Turians, at least, were tougher and provided a more satisfiying fight.

Demine was at his desk where Skud had left him, his dark head bowed as he read from his computer screen. He looked up when they entered, the barest flicker of a smile crossing his features to see the female merc at Skud's side. He rose with the grace befitting of a sniper and stepped up to her.

"You're one of Zaeed's, ahem, men?" he asked airily of the woman. "I didn't quite believe it when I read he was indeed alive. There had been reports of a bounty hunter of the same name and repute, but I never would've guessed it was the same man! How is he?"

"Angry," was the brief reply. Skud grinned. He liked this one. "I'm not here to chitchat, Mikael. I'm here to take you back to Joab, per Zaeed's orders."

"Orders?" Mikael echoed, indignant. "I know Vido is dead, but no leader has been voted upon yet! Zaeed cannot possibly think he can just waltz back from the dead and take over?"

"That's his plan," the merc replied blandly. "The others have stood behind him; what's your excuse?"

"That is between Zaeed and myself!" Mikael insisted. "You can just tell him I have no intentions of leaving my base, not until I know what's happened to Job and Ripper!"

"Job is on his way to Joab now, Demine. You can either fall in line or find yourself on the business end of my gun. Zaeed would have me bring you back alive, kicking and screaming if I have to, but I personally have no problems putting a round in your knees and throwing you over my shoulder. What'll it be?"

"You dare!" Mikael sputtered while Skud gave a loud bark of amused laughter.

"Didn't I tell you not to underestimate women, Demine? This one would have your quad in a jar if you let her! Ha!"

"Macho posturing aside, Mikael," the merc interceded, stepping closer to Demine. "It really is safer on Joab. At least you'll have more protection. I'm tough, and I'm sure Skud here is too, but this turian has left whole squads in ruin. He'd rip your men to shreds, no matter how good you think they are. This guy? Well, he's better. I'd rather fight him on equal ground and Zaeed could use your infiltrators." She paused. "Just come back. Zaeed wants to keep the old guard alive. He's not looking to overrun your operations no matter what you might think."

"I will leave when I see this assassin for myself!" Mikael replied hotly. "I have faced down the greatest assassin in the galaxy and survived! This amatuer does not frighten me!"

The merc sighed heavily, taking a step back from Demine. Skud watched her closely. Would she do good by her words and take his legs out? He hoped so. As much as he was getting paid to protect this pompous ass, it would still be worth every cred in his account to see him get taken down a notch. And by a woman no less! That would stick in his craw! When her hand whipped around to grab her pistol, Skud permitted himself a sharp cackle.

Mikael flipped away from the merc's weapon, landing deftly on his desk before pivoting on one heel and withdrawing a pistol from a drawer. All of this happened in an eyeblink and Skud found himself in the middle of a standoff. To her credit, the merc didn't flinch when Mikael's weapon leveled itself in her face.

"Don't do this, Demine," she warned. "It's not worth it."

"I'll decide what's worth it!" Mikael hissed, his dark eyes wild. "Under Vido's reign, I was able to climb the ranks faster than if Zaeed had been in command! He kept me down, kept my men down! He didn't think the Suns needed an infiltration unit, preferring instead to charge and take, take, take! He lacked finesse then and he lacks finesse now! No, little mercenary, I won't let him tear my empire down. I would die first!"

"I didn't want to hear that," the merc told him, her voice a little disappointed. "But I have my orders and I never leave an order unobliged."

"Then try and take me, if you can!" With that, Mikael leapt from the desk into the rafters, his slim legs carrying him effortlessly over the beams. Skud drew his rifle, almost from habit, and scanned the ceiling with it as Demine scurried about like a gigantic spider. The merc cursed violently behind her helmet and broke into a run after Demine's rapidly moving form. Skud followed after her, curiosity and the scent of an oncoming firefight igniting his blood.

The krogan and woman tracked Demine's movements back into the station's main lobby where all of the Suns in his squad had mysteriously disappeared. The merc stopped short, holding out her arm to still Skud's progress as well.

"We're in a base full of snipers," she whispered. "I bet you anything there are a hundred lasers trained on us right now."

"Just how I like it!" Skud growled, thrilled.

"You would," she replied shortly.

"Finding cover isn't going to matter in a second here," Skud observed, tempering his blood rage long enough to get a proper assessment of the situation. There were enough ledges, balconies, and pillars in the lobby to provide ample perches for a dozen snipers. The only real cover was a desk set near the doors and a few potted plants. Hardly enough to keep them alive long enough to take them all out.

"Your only solution is to do as I say, little mercenary," Demine's voice echoed somewhere above them. "Otherwise, Zaeed will receive you in a bodybag."

"Not a smart idea, Demine," she warned. "He didn't say he'd be difficult," she added in an undertone. "Figures. Nothing's ever easy."

"I'll decide that," Demine countered smugly. "We can do this one of two ways: You can back down and return to my office with me unharmed to await the arrival of our special guest or I can have my men shoot you down and have your body sent back as a warning. What will it be?"

"I'd go for the bodybag, but that's just me," Skud remarked with a shrug. He felt the merc look at him with annoyance.

"I get that krogan love battle and all, but why bother standing with me if he's the one paying you?" she jerked her pistol in Demine's direction. Skud shrugged again.

"I get out of here alive no matter what happens. If I'm lucky, one of you will pay my fee. Fighting is just a bonus."

"Of course it is."

"Enough banter!" Demine thundered. "Make your decision before I make it for you!"

Skud glanced at the merc sidelong, waiting. Her hand went up to her ear and she seemed to be conversing with someone on the other side of her commlink. After a moment, she lowered her hand, gripped her pistol more fimly, and looked at Skud.

"Time for that bonus," she informed him quietly. He heard an edge of excitement in her voice and grinned broadly. Excellent.

Without further warning, she dove to the side, discharging an arc of fire upwards. A sniper fell from the nearest balcony, his neck breaking on the way down against an outcropping. Skud chuckled darkly.

"First blood's ours, Demine!" he roared before diving behind the desk after the merc. "Try and take ours, if you have the quads!"

"Damn you!" Demine shouted, revealing himself on one of the highest ledges. "Take them out!"

At once, a barrage of gunfire fell upon them like rain, shattering the plants around them and taking massive chunks out of the steel floor. The merc slid beneath the desk further, Skud positioned in front of her. She curled up into the corner, her hands fumbling at her rear holster. A bundle of incendiaries appeared in her palm. These she wound about a plasma grenade, set its timer, and pressed it into his hand. Understanding, Skud popped out of cover long enough to hurl the makeshift mini-bomb into the balconies to their right. It exploded with an earsplitting _boom_, sending five men from their perches. Little more than armored hunks of flesh hit the ground around them. It was a glorious sight.

"Damn me for only coming with a pistol," she muttered, fishing around her sides for supplies to create more slapdash bombs. Skud pulled his SMG from its port and handed it to her. "Thanks," she grinned, loading it with inferno ammo. "Now it gets fun."

She scooted out from under the desk and, diving into a roll, skidded to a stop behind a far pillar. Immediately, a grazing of fire followed in her wake, peppering the column with bullet scars. Skud waited for the fire to die down, then thundered over to her and hid behind an opposite pillar. They exchanged a quick glance and brief nod before she circled out of cover and shot down a few more snipers. She rolled along the column back into cover so Skud could whip out and do the same to the other side of the room. In minutes, all snipers had been brought down and now littered the lobby floor with their bodies.

Skud grinned to hear Demine howl in rage at being bested and started to come out of cover. The merc did the same, her stride easy and confident. Suddenly, she froze and jerked her head upwards. Skud followed her gaze.

Hanging from the underside of a balcony was the turian assassin. He'd been waiting for them to clear the room, Skud realized angrily. Damned turian bastard!

"Get down, Mikael!" she shouted suddenly, pushing Skud's bulk out of the way and racing towards the stairs. The turian flipped gracefully up onto the balcony's ledge, rifle in hand. Skud watched in dumbfounded amazement as the assassin seemed to fly from the ledge to the window frames, crawling across them to reach the other side of the lobby. The merc had disappeared from view, lost somewhere in the shuffle to find Demine and get him away from the assassin's range.

Just then, Demine's lithe formed glided out from his hiding place and landed onto the window's ledge beside the turian. The turian paused mid-swing, his visored face whipping up to look the Blue Suns boss in the eyes. As if in a dance, the two dove and swept over the expanse of glass panes, dodging and weaving whenever the other attempted a strike.

Demine propelled himself from the window and landed with his feet flat on the turian's chest. They hung suspended in the air for the barest of moments before the impact of Demine's kick sent the assassin plummeting to the floor. The turian kickflipped out of the way when Demine attempted to stomp his head as he landed. On the ground, neither man, accustomed to remaining in high places, had an advantage. It was an equal battle fought on equal ground. However, it soon became clear that the human had bitten off more than he could chew.

The turian struck quickly, delivering a bone-shattering uppercut to Mikael's delicate jaw. The merc boss stumbled back, his feet skidding along the steel floor. He spat out blood viciously and sprang like a wild cat onto the turian's chest again. Demine hooked his fingers into the collar of the turian's armor, flipping over his head and taking the assassin off his feet. The turian slid across the floor, coming to a violent stop against a column.

"Mikael!" the female merc's voice echoed through the lobby. Skud looked up and spied her on the stairs again, her pistol out. She vaulted over the railing towards Demine, long strides closing the space between them in seconds. She raced in front of the Suns boss, shielding him with her body and pointed her gun at the fallen assassin. "Your spree ends here!" she cried.

Across from her, the turian pushed himself to his feet. Skud saw his hand reach for a sidearm. "Look out!" the krogan called. His alert forced the merc's hand and she fired two shots into the turian's shoulders, one bullet each. The turian reeled from the force, his kinetic shields having already been broken down by Demine's previous assault. He fell to the ground again, blue blood streaming from his wounds.

She stalked over to his writhing body, gun still held before her threateningly. "You've killed in cold blood, you bastard. Not anymore," she snarled and pinned him down with a boot to his throat. With his shoulders wounded, he couldn't push her off his neck and instead lay there, chest heaving. She bent low and hooked a finger under his helmet. "Let's see who you are." She jerked the visor from his head and made to toss it aside when she paused. Her body stiffened visibly and her foot slowly left the turian's neck. She backed away, the assassin's helmet slipping from her fingers. Her voice shook when she spoke again:

"Garrus?"


End file.
